Grissom's Legacy
by Blue-Jaye.Fevre
Summary: When Humanity finds itself on the edge of Galactic War, Alliance Officials send three N7 Marines on a vital mission to assess and evaluate the newest generation of Alliance prodigies. Will Humanity's brightest be able to stand defiant against it's foes? Or will they fall to threats new and old? Primarily OCs with cameos; Rated T for Teenage Wasteland; Altered Canon.
1. The Summons

_Aboard the SSV Seattle, Orbiting the Planet Elysium. _

_Year: 2185._

_**-/\/**7-_

Ward Thompson and Jason Pitcairn were requested to the Fore Observation deck. The request was issued by the ship's captain which in and of itself was not strange. That the request was deemed classified was also not strange. N7 marines were frequently given orders that bore no context until well after the mission was complete and debriefing issued. Oftentimes there was no explanation at a debriefing, simply a rehashing of the events that transpired during the mission. Kill counts, items recovered, collateral damage (if any), casualties (if any), equipment damaged (always) and other miscellaneous details.

No, what Ward thought was strange about this particular request was the manner in which it was delivered. Typically the ship's crew knew about the N7's missions. Shuttle Pilots, Engineers, Navigators, the Helmsman, the Quartermaster, Requisitions Officer, Master at Arms, the Ship's Surgeon, and the chattier marines all caught bits and pieces of the latest missions the elite marines were sent on: Flight trajectories, weapon and item order forms, post mission injuries, overheard bits of gossip, unencrypted non classified transmissions.

Following the missions of the N7's onboard the Seattle was akin to watching a thrilling holo or getting cable over the extranet terminals in the Ship's lounge. Their missions were dangerous, filled with unsavory and experienced killers, criminals and organizations. Their locations were varied, from tropical jungles to barren moons; Arctic ocean planets and enemy space stations. Their equipment was bleeding edge and exotic; their exploits (those that they were allowed to speak of) were almost fictional in their detail.

If the N7's were going to be briefed on a mission, the crew would be gossiping about it. News of an upcoming operation would reach the N7's before the official order did.

What Ward found strange was the nondescript data pad requesting an urgent meeting with the Captain that was delivered to him in a blasé manner by a typically chatty communications officer.

Ward's burly partner in crime, Jason, was present when the message arrived. He seemed just as surprised at the news as Ward did. Jason was an individual of even intelligence with terrible social perception. In combat the man could hit a moving target from half a click away; On board the ship it took him a week to work out that the Helmsman and the Ship's doctor were married, despite overt flirtations over the intercom and wedding rings present on both individuals bearing the same insignia: a white enamel bird centered on a red enamel medical cross.

There were very few situations that merited a full encryption that passed between the N7's and their respective handlers. It meant that the comm officers were the only individuals that saw the relayed message from Alliance command, albeit FYEO and impossible to read. There would be no order forms, new shipments sent by supply frigate, no indication movement to indicate an upcoming mission.

Ward and Jason both stood up from their table, meals unfinished and moved straight towards the central elevator linking the 6 levels of the ship to each other. Both marines walked with purpose towards the elevator and called it down. Ward and Jason stayed calm as they waited for the elevator. N7's were the epitome of the Alliance soldiers, and an inability to remain calm under fire was a trait that not even an N4 would be qualified for.

Jason tapped his foot as the elevator descended to their floor. Once in they only had to ascend two floors to get to the fore observation deck, located right above the bridge on the third floor. The elevator arrived and the Marines strolled in, remaining as inconspicuous as possible. As the doors shut Jason turned to Ward.

"There are about six or seven things that this could be, and all of them are pretty fucking crazy."

Ward nodded. Most N7 operations were shielded to prevent enemy spies from analyzing data, but the actual missions were very typical: A high visibility crime ring remained uncaptured for too long or a minor crime lord grew too ambitious for the Alliance's liking. The most sensitive missions were preemptive strikes on Batarian Slavers, affiliated or unaffiliated with the Hegemony.

If a communication came as subtle as this one had, it was often overlooked by the comm staff who were always getting encrypted communications. They trained themselves to look for the red flags of assignment based messages. Truly important messages were put under a minimal encryption backed up by a "cloaked" sextuple bypass lock. Ward recalled a code breaker referring to it as a "tin door concealing a bank vault." Once decrypted, these messages were plain and simple. But what was different about this message was not just the urgency in the message, but also its apprehension: "Aft Observation, ASAP. –K. Mifune" Mifune was a hard hitting, no nonsense veteran who didn't speak in codes or riddles.

That was what was eating at Ward Thompson and Jason Pitcairn: The ambiguity of what could be described as a Defcon 9 situation. Jason pressed the button for the second floor and watched as the doors smoothly closed.

* * *

Lieutenant-Colonel Kora Mifune was the CO of the SSV Seattle, and one of over two hundred "handlers" attached to the N7 Marine program. Within a decade of Humanity's inception into the Galactic Community, The Systems Alliance had already begun establishing the blueprints for the N-Special Forces divisions, even though they wouldn't come to approval until later. By the time suitable instructors and recruits were approached, establishments built, and logistics set in place, more than a decade had passed and war had already arrived on the doorstep of humanity.

The Batarian Hegemony, the highly paranoid and antagonistic governing body of the maligned Batarian race, had been dealt a proverbial backhand when the Galactic Council refused to declare the Skyllian Verge an area of Batarian economic and colonial interest. The decision sparked uproar within the Hegemony, ending with the withdrawal of Batarians from the Galactic Community.

Furious at the upstart antics of the politically green Systems Alliance, The Hegemony backed several large Pirate and Slaver rings in the Terminus systems to initiate attacks on human colonies. The Alliance, caught off guard by the brutality and blitzkrieg tactics (for which the military engagement derives its name from) lost several colonies in the initial attacks.

While the Alliance mobilized their fleets to air their colonies they cried out to the Council for aid in protecting their assets.

The Turians, Peacekeepers of the Galaxy and the Military arm of the Galactic Community, still embittered by the events of the Relay 314 incident (Known to all of humanity as the First Contact War) dragged their heels as they mobilized forces. The Hierarchy would arrive when it arrived, was the curt message received by Alliance Naval Command.

The Asari, Diplomats and mediators of the Galactic Community, debated amongst themselves what the best course of action was. As the various Republics argued, handfuls of communities sent support primarily in the form of medical supplies and other non-combat aid. The city of Serrice was unanimous in its unilateral support of the Systems Alliance, sending Asari Commandos and a small fleet to aid the Alliance.

The Salarians, Scientists and Intelligence gatherers of the Galactic Community, experienced internal struggle from within. The Race's Matriarchal Union of Feudal houses remained opposed to direct aid in what would be labeled a "Provencial struggle not fit for the full weight of Galactic aid." While government support was vehemently denied, the Salarian Military known as the Special Tasks Group (STG) sent support in the form of intelligence and enemy fleet movements to the Alliance.

The Client races of the Galactic Community sent far greater aid than that of the three Council races combined: Elcor from Dekuuna sent all form of aid to the colonies in the Skyllian Verge and to the Alliance Navy; The Hanar of Kahje actively decried the actions of the Hegemony, voicing their opinions vehemently on the Citadel and applying pressure to the otherwise noncommittal Galactic Council.

The Volus of Irune, the client race of the Turian Hierarchy, poured millions of credits into the hands of the Alliance to aid them in fighting off the Terminus Horde and for later, when the fighting was finished and reconstruction was necessary.

The aid from the Galactic Community was paltry in contrast to the fighting itself: Over thirty human colonies burned while thousands of Alien Mercenaries, Pirates and Slavers ravaged the Verge. Officially the Hegemony decried the actions of the Horde. It was a lie only they believed.

While the Alliance Military was by no means weak it had been dealt several severe blows over the last twenty years: The first was The First Contact War, culminating in the destruction of two human fleets consisting of 27 Human ships: primarily frigates and cruisers, with the sole exception of a Dreadnaught. The war took over 15,000 human lives, both Civilian and Military and cost the Systems Alliance nearly a billion credits in damages. The next blow would be the Treaty of Farixen, a military treaty that limited the construction of Dreadnaughts to 1 human Dreadnaught per every five Turian Dreadnaughts.

Humanity would then fall into several more blunders: The Tuchankan Resurgence; The Terra Firma riots, and the Global Recession of '62.

With so much damage to its infrastructure, so little money to spend repairing the fleets and a "Return to Sol" movement that left Colonies depopulated it was little wonder a small army of hardened Mercenaries and Criminals were able to put the Alliance into a stalemate. Guerilla Tactics, Scorched Earth and Total Warfare allowed the Terminus Horde to evade the Alliance forces for months, all the while dealing shameful defeats to Alliance forces at nearly every turn.

It was during the siege of Elysium that things came to a head: The primary fleet of the Horde orbited Elysium, preventing emergency comm signals from summoning reinforcements. As they finished the blockade, a swarm of shuttles and drop ships descended into the lower atmosphere of Elysia.

Kora remembered them. _'Like the falling of hard rain'_, they descended upon the city's outer limits: The mostly Batarian forces crushed Police forces under heel and fought all resistance members closer and closer to the center of the city.

Gunships spewed heated death upon masses of innocent people; Troop carriers unloaded dozens of slavers and insurgents through the streets, where they firebombed houses and gunned down fleeing citizens in their wake.

Kora remembered holding her ground in Dumas Square. Before the Blitz it had been a tranquil park not unlike the ones found in many Earthen Metropolises; During the Blitz it had been fortified as a supply depot; during the siege it became the northern most trenches to hold against the Horde.

Kora remembered timing her shots, just like they had taught her at basic: _Sight an enemy, take your time, fire. _She and her peers fought, slowly losing men as the horde progressed on their position. What felt like hours were merely minutes, crawling by as the face of death moved ever closer to her barricade.

Kora remembered praying to her gods, for forgiveness and for vengeance. She remembered her kinetic barriers failing and the SMG fire that riddled her side.

She swore as she tried to apply the Medigel to her side, wincing as the attacks drew closer.

What happened next was an event Kora would always remember, an event so profound that she could never have anticipated it: Her prayers were answered.

The firing died down, bit by bit, shot by shot. Gunships began to retreat. None of it made sense at the time, but Kora speculated it might have something to do with the sky. Bright crimson fires dotted the sapphire skyline of Elysia. Small dots of Gray erupted into blooms of orange and red before disappearing all together.

The last thing Kora remembered were figures approaching her. As she weakly tried to lift her rifle, she heard murmuring in a language somewhere between Russian and Arabic, a lilting sound that was so foreign to her it had to be alien.

_**-/\/**7-_

When she awoke it was in a small makeshift infirmary within the city limits. The monitors hummed quietly as she attempted to sit up on the bed. She had winced at the pain in her side, reactively moving her hand over the gauze that no doubt sealed in military grade Medigel.

An army medic moved over to her and asked her to lie down and rest, that the fighting was over. Kora was unconvinced, at the time she has demanded to see proof. She recalled the Medic grinning at the request, pulling up a video feed on his Omni-Tool.

Dated nearly a day ago, Kora watched a fleet of ragged ships stationed above Elysium. Within the next thirty seconds a brace of warships entered the system, followed by dozens more ships of all sizes and calibers. Kora could only gasp as this large, ragtag fleet salvoed hundreds of rounds at the blockade, using Mass Accelerator guns, GARDIAN lasers, and even what Kora thought were Javelin Missiles. That kind of tech wasn't cheap, and Kora was well briefed in Alien Navies during her first few weeks of enlisted Officer training. Asari Ships were graceful and otherworldly, defying conventional design and logic; Turian had very utilitarian designs, with pointed bows and sharp angles; Salarian ships tended to curve at certain angles. These ships were neither military grade or recent, some of them looking ancient.

Several design themes became apparent, with some ships consisting of what appeared to be a wheel with the remainder of the ship thrusting forward at a ninety-degree angle. Large globular ships followed in the rear of the ragtag fleet, firing up obscenely powerful guns that downed Horde cruisers.

It was as if she were watching a dream: Questions darted throughout her mind 'Who are these people? How did they get here? Why were they helping us?'

As if reading her thoughts, the Medic smiled and answered her questions with a single statement: "The Migrant Fleet came to our aid."

Indeed, the Migrant Fleet had traveled from the edges of the Attican Traverse to answer the calls of the Systems Alliance. The Quarians, a race exiled from the Galactic Community centuries prior to Humanity's first contact for creating a race of hostile AI's, had taken their gigantic fleet to the Verge, where they engaged the Terminus Horde and annihilated their largest contingent. When asked why they had chosen to involve themselves in the fighting, the Quarians were succinct and biting in their answer: "For our lost."

For years following their exile, the Migrant Fleet had been the prey of Hegemony backed Slavers. Hundreds were lost over the centuries to Slavers, who often forced Quarians to work dredge work as technicians or engineers, threatening them with all manner of Quarian unfriendly threats to specifically keep them in line. As an exiled race, the Quarians had no aid from the Galactic Community.

Now, seeing humanity plagued by the same dangers at a much larger scale, the Quarians moved to aid prospective allies. Even when the politics and subtle manipulations of their actions were set aside, one could easily see the Quarians fury at the events: A group practically abandoned by the Galactic Community struggling on its own to fight the same monsters who had harried the Quarian people for countless years was the closest the Quarians could get at a practical chance to strike back at the Hegemony for its actions.

The salvation of Elysia was the turning point of the war: What should have ended in the destruction of Humanity's last major stronghold ended up as a decisive victory against the Horde. Citizens, galvanized by the aid of the Quarians, joined militias and Alliance reserves in droves. Human aid poured out of Earth towards both the Migrant Fleet and the colonies of the Verge.

With the Migrant Fleet putting its entire civilization on the line for humanity's best interests, the Systems Alliance was spurred into action: No longer were evacuation efforts and cat-mouse chases the primary efforts of the Human fleets.

The Quarian Patrol fleet ordered a fraction of its ships to hunt for Horde Corsairs and scout planets where Horde forces were hiding. Alliance fleets positioned half of their forces above human colony planets while transporting thousands of soldiers planet by planet, crushing enemy bases and rooting out Horde battalions.

Within three months, the Horde were cornered on the Moon of Torfan, wherein fifty thousand Alliance soldiers descended upon the moon, destroyed over three dozen bases and executed the majority of the Horde leadership right then and there.

It was there that Lieutenant Kora Mifune, in her heroic actions, managed singlehandedly to save a trapped division of marines while taking down not one but two whole Horde defense forces. With a whimper, the Horde forces were annihilated, the survivors fleeing out into the rotted depths of the Terminus.

The end of the war marked a new era of Quarian-Human relations, and left many humans questioning their decision to join a Community that was, at best, apathetic to its members.

* * *

Ward and Jason stepped out of the elevator twelve minutes after entering it. A power delay forced the two to scramble out of the elevator and towards the Aft Observation deck.

Most surprisingly, Ward and Jason were greeted by two burly marines who bore colors of the Alliance Fifth Fleet. The two N7's looked to each other before the guards stepped aside; allowing the two thoroughly befuddled young men to look to each other before heading inside the moderately expansive room.

The observation port doubled as something of a quiet lounge, reserved for Officers who were looking to use their downtime reading or generally relaxing from the often stressful workloads they were given to keep a London class Cruiser running at 101% efficiency. Lieutenant-Colonel Mifune was a back breaking taskmistress who expected nothing but the utmost perfection from her crew, and while she was regarded as both a legend and an unholy terror to some of the crew she was reknown for her empathy towards crewmen's needs. R&R was a necessity on a high performance vessel such as the Seattle, and Mifune made sure every single crewman was given their share of a proper break.

The Observation deck overlooked the planet of Elysium, a blue and green marble not so different from Earth. Mifune was looking out at the panoramic window at the planet when the two men entered, wheeling around rapidly to assess them.

"First Lieutenant Thompson, Second Lieutenant Pitcairn."

The two had been holding a salute since she had begun to turn. "At ease"

The two N7's lowered their hands, stone faced at their commanding officer. Mifune began to pace parallel to the room's window, which gave Ward a moment to look around. Besides Mifune, four other figures were in the room. Ward spotted Second Lieutenant Abigail Lyons first. The third N7 was giving Ward a hesitant look, which was not uncommon for her. She signaled for him to look towards his right. Ward turned and saw three figures, two sitting, and one standing around a table on the right-hand side of the room.

The first was an older woman, probably in her mid-fifties. Her hair was tied in a curt bun about her head, and she was dressed in a matronly green gown that was unflattering but no doubt official. Her posture was stiff and uncomfortable. On her right sleeve was an embroidered sigil, possibly a cross. Ward couldn't make it out from his present angle, but he could tell that the woman wasn't military.

The second individual was a relaxed man who sat with one leg crossed over the other, as if he were enjoying a nice chat in his home, as opposed to whatever severe briefing this signified. He was in dress blues, with the unmistakable N7 badge on his chest. He couldn't have been more than early forties, with his clean shaven face and sandy brown hair cropped tight. He smiled as Ward's eyes crossed over him to the third figure, who was standing…

Ward's eyes widened and he immediately raised his right hand in a salute.

"Admiral Hackett, sir!"

Jason caught it seconds after Ward did.

The most decorated Admiral in the Systems Alliance Navy saluted the N7's back.

"At ease men. Please, come take a seat and let's get this briefing under way."

It was at this point in time that Ward knew that this mission was going to be anything but routine.

What he did not know was how this mission would begin a chain of events that would reshape the Galaxy and its inhabitants forever.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what worked, or what didn't work. This has slightly revised canon, and more will become clear as the chapters progress, but for now enjoy the story in it's full Mass Effect atmosphere and let me worry about revealing the details to you, piece by piece :D

Blue-Jaye, out. ;)


	2. The Debriefing

_Aboard the SSV Seattle, Orbiting the Planet Elysium. _

_Year: 2185. Same day._

**-/\/7**-

Ward, Jason and Abigail sat around the cluster of couches, across from the new trio of guests. Mifune moved to stand next to Admiral Hackett. The whole group remained quiet for a brief moment before Hackett began to talk.

"I'm sure all of you are wondering why this was kept so quiet. I understand your normal reports are straightforward and to the point." The Admiral stroked his beard solemnly, giving off the air of a Lion in his stature. "As I'm sure you have deduced by now, this briefing is far from orthodox, and for good reason. Officers, war is on the horizon."

Mifune shifted stances quietly, while the unnamed N7 straightened his pose ever so slightly. The matronly woman was quietly hanging onto every word out of the Admiral's mouth.

As for the N7's, they knew how to hide their shock. Being among the best in one's army meant that revelations of that magnitude were meant to be received with caution and inquiry, not awe or protest.

"Report brought to us from our agents in the Kite's Nest report the Hegemony stockpiling Tier three weapons of mass destruction. We've received reports of Batarian colonies throughout the Terminus building all manner of military appliances and resources. Alliance agents on Omega returned to their respective fleets reporting of mass exoduses of Batarians from the station en route to the Kite's Nest system. Our best analysts have run the numbers: The Batarians are preparing for war."

"Bastards think they are being clever, using propaganda to reassure their civvies that they are merely strengthening the infrastructure. If that were the case they'd be building goddamned farms and reorganizing cities. Instead we've gotten over hundreds of testimonies from intelligence sources that state that the Hegemony is moving towards war." The unnamed N7 snorted derisively from his seat.

Hackett's face remained unreadable. "Officers, allow me to introduce Captain Jackson Lee Woolf, N7 Officer and handler of the Omega Cell."

Ward recognized the name: Woolf was a cannonball amongst the otherwise reputable N7 Divisions. The man was reckless and described as a complete wild man. He was also within the first class of N7 recruits brought on after the First Contact war. Thirty years of service, enlisted in the program when he was 18, Woolf was something of a folk legend amongst the Systems Marine Corps. Despite his age, he was still a tenacious fighter whose exploits were nothing short of legendary.

Ward picked up on Jason's sudden intake of breath next to him. Woolf was the personal hero of Pitcairn, who had grown up hearing tall tales of the man who had clashed with Krogan on Tuchanka, warred with Criminal Empires in the Terminus, and had personally dueled with Eclipse leader Jona Sedaris before her flight. Ward restrained the urge to roll his eyes at his burly comrade's attitude.

"I would also like to introduce the esteemed Doctor Helena Augustine X, current Headmistress of the Jon Grissom Academy."

HAX. That was a name he hadn't heard for a long time, but much like Woolf, Dr. Augustine's reputation preceded her by light years. The Augustine's were old money from earth, a long line of noted scientists, politicians, artists, warriors, philosophers and civil servants. The family was apparently descended from ancient French gentry, and had amassed a fortune through their large singular families. The family was rumored to be cursed by some, as only one or two children per generation proved to be fertile. Because of such, the Augustine's devoted their fortunes into a singular fund, instead of distributing them along the varying branches. Helena was the tenth of her name, and had received a plethora of doctorates from prestigious Universities on all over Earth. A maverick in educational systems and discipline, Helena was asked foremost among a hundred conceivable candidates to oversee the construction and administration of a private military academy following the Blitz.

Helena accepted, with the sole caveat that the academy be constructed and located over Elysium. While she has never admitted her reasoning towards this action, Ward remembered reading that her father had been among the slain resistance during the Siege of Elysia.

Ward had not the faintest idea why she was invited to this summit: Mifune and Woolf were among the top N7 Handlers in the whole Division, and among the best soldiers in the entire Systems Navy. HAX however was a wildcard. There was only one real reason why she was here, and he be damned if Hackett didn't give them a logical explanation.

"Upon consultation with Alliance High Command over the Batarian situation, a number of our strategists have been running various plans and maneuvers to deal with the Batarians. We've got over a hundred different think tanks and R&D companies planning logistics of a full scale war with the Hegemony. As you are aware, none of this is real news. These countermeasures have been in effect for decades. What has the game changed and intelligence reports from The Council: The Salarian Union is experiencing a rift between the Special Tasks Group and the Dalatrasses that run the government; The Asari Republics have and will remain neutral until the day comes wherein their territories come under attack; The Hierarchy, never a true ally of the Alliance has shown their colors by strengthening their borders within the Apien Crest. Reports of Krogan warlords rising to power within the DMZ are gaining by the day. We've come to a conclusion on what all of this means: The Galaxy is preparing for another Skyllian Verge by shuttering their windows and locking their doors. They know that a storm is coming, and it's headed straight towards Earth."

Hackett paused for a moment before continuing. "We are on our own for the time being, and once the first shots are fired, I want every pair of hands, every battalion and every human resource snapping to the cause. This is where the three of you come in."

Mifune handed the Admiral a data pad.

"Jason Pitcairn, aged 23. Enrolled at 18, selected for N7 commendations by 21, two years spent in the Attican Theatre. Abigail Callais, aged 23. Enrolled at 18, selected for N7 Commendations by 21, two years spent in the Attican theatre. Ward Thompson, aged 23. Enrolled at 18, selected for N7 commendations at 21 years of age. You three are all from the same graduating class, correct?"

The three Marines shook their heads in affirmation of the Admiral. Despite their different ages and backgrounds, the three N7's had been enrolled in the same class of applicants to the N7 program.

Hackett glanced back towards the data pad in his hand meanwhile using his free hand to scroll.

"Since your graduation from Fort Charles, the three of you have undertaken…" Hackett scrolls down further. "Ah there it is. One hundred and thirty seven missions. You three have undertaken one hundred and thirty seven missions. Can you tell me your success rate Second Lieutenant Callais?"

"Sir, 98% success rate, sir!" Abigail belted out in response.

"Ninety-eight percent. Over a hundred plus missions and you kids have perhaps failed what two, three missions at the most? While we tend to expect the best from our soldiers it would be graven of me to say they are always able to perform to standards. You three aren't the best in the Systems Alliance. No, you three are not the best in the Alliance Marine Corps, N7 or otherwise. What you are however, are unique in your backgrounds, your psychological evaluations and the observations we've conducted during your time aboard the Seattle. You may not be the best, but you are the best in what we need you to do, and what we want you to do, is to teach."

Ward could feel the confusion rolling off of his comrades, which was about even with his own level of discomfort towards the situation.

"Sir, permission to speak?" Jason was the first to ask.

"Lieutenant?" Hackett's unchanging eyes bored into Pitcairn's skull, challenging him to say something trite about the subject.

"Right, well I don't mean any disrespect sir, but… teaching? We're good at blowing up s-stuff and shooting the enemy but I don't think Ward is going to be too much help teaching differential Calculus or Abby helping kids with Turian dialects or myself educating students on the cosmos. It's not in our job title. We're the "blow stuff up and kill bad guys" people, not the "Teach prep students about English" people." Jason finished, trying to inject humor into a long and drawn out question for the Admiral.

HAX looked disappointed in Jason already, Woolf was openly grinning, Mifune looked about ready to enact naval discipline on Lieutenant Pitcairn. The Admiral himself remained quiet, save for the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No Lieutenant, allow me to reassure you that your mission won't be reliant upon academic teaching. I'll allow the honorable doctor a chance to speak."

HAX- Doctor Augustine stood up and began to pace back and forth in the space in front of the N7's. Despite her age (Well into her 60's if Ward remembered correctly) Dr. Augustine was a trim, energetic figure. This was not a woman who allowed her sedentary job to weigh her down. Ward estimated she did at least twenty hours of calisthenics and cardio exercises a week.

"N7's of the Alliance, allow me to move past the smoke and mirrors and get straight to the heart of the matter." Her voice was crisp and clear, an English diction so correct in sound that it could have passed for such if Ward hadn't have known better. "During the Skyllian Blitz our Resources were scattered and disorganized. The Hegemony forged a band of Terminus Criminals together in record speed and then set them upon the Verge, giving them the framework for a multiyear conflict that left our blundering fleets incapable of instantly pursuing them and bringing them to a heel. Our forces, in a state of discord could not assist. Our people, on Earth and abroad were ambivalent about the attacks. Our resources were displaced and poorly utilized in the efforts of aid and military action. Should the Batarians strike yet again, we will not make the same mistake. We will not allow our people to sit back and not help with the war effort, not when so much is at stake in this war."

Dr. Augustine paused for a moment to allow her words to sink in properly before continuing. She wanted to make a point that the Alliance had failed once, and its inadequacy would not be forgotten.

"In war, the culmination of talent, discipline and strategy are what separates the victors from the vanquished. Asari Commandos repelled forces hundreds of times larger than their own units with nothing more than their training and small arms. Salarian saboteurs were among the greatest assets to the Council during the Krogan rebellions, initially eliminating defense grids and supply lines while later helping to implement the Genophage. Human strategists, politicians and veterans have advocated these same tactics over millennia, their cries echoing throughout continent and civilization as verses of the same song. If we are to be prepared for the Hegemony, then we will require nothing but the best of the best."

Ward glanced over to his comrades. Jason was focusing on Helena as if she were the last thing in the whole world, which made very little sense given Jason's priorities: Jason didn't care about history or strategy. He was a frontline soldier with a hawk's eye and a bear's arm. If Woolf were talking, Jason might be that genuinely transfixed. Since it was Augustine, he suspected Jason was willing himself to remain awake and focused through Dr. Augustine's not straightforward and not clear lecture.

Abby was patiently watching Dr. Augustine, as if analyzing every aspect of the noted administrator. That, Ward thought, was not at all surprising. Abby had always been one to map out a situation first before making a decision as opposed to Jason who was nothing but gut reactions and reflexes.

Dr. Augustine prattled on about the merits of military training and past victories for what seemed like ten minutes before finally ambling onto her point. "… Which is why I need the three of you to travel to the Jon Grissom Academy. Questions?"

Abby's hand shot up instinctively, and was rewarded with a curt nod from Dr. Augustine. "May I recap your words to create a coherent picture for my teammates?" Woolf's grin consumed his face, while Augustine eyed Abby coolly. "Certainly my dear."

Abby turned her head to face Ward and Jason. "Dr. Augustine has proposed that we travel to Grissom Academy to teach their students basic military education while evaluating their top students."

Ward wheeled around to face the Doctor immediately. "When was that postulated Doctor?! Did I miss a memo? Because the Alliance is _not_ the Sons of Anhur. We do _not_ raise child soldiers to fight our wars! A historian such as _yourself_ should understand as much!"

Dr. Augustine gave him that condescending look that transmitted how she clearly felt about his moral views on the subject. "The average age of the students at Grissom is 16. The senior students vary from late teens to mid-twenties depending on age enrolled and course of study taken. Even if you discount age from the matter, these aren't Congolese Child Conscripts Lieutenant; Grissom is a Military school, first and foremost. It may be the preeminent college prepatory institution in the Systems Alliance, but it has and always will remain a fixture of the Alliance Navy. All students are required to serve a four year term prior to graduation, a soft substitute to the hundreds of thousands of credit they would pay for nearly a decade's worth of education and living expenses. Most of the students are put either in leadership positions in safe zones or are sent to minor details around the Sol system. Only the handful that request frontline or dangerous missions are granted such. The academy has served its base function admirably, and now we shall see if it has served its higher purpose: Has our net caught the prized catches we seek?"

The solider in Ward knew that Augustine was perfectly correct, and that he had undergone a similar ordeal for his training into the N7 division. The human in Ward wanted to punch this woman, who treated children as pawns across a board game. They were disposable, so long as they got the job done. Mifune had never spoken of their dispensability, and had always been adamant about extracting them from hot zones or getting them out of hot zones at the cost of missions.

"The Academy has a population of roughly 8,000 students. You will not focus on all of them. You will not focus on the top 10% of the student body. You will focus on less that 1% of the student body, around thirty to forty students that have been analyzed for proficiency at arms, biotic potential and technological aptitude. You will do more than be their teachers: You will blend in with them, become their friends and confidants. You will become more than simply instructors to these students: You will become trusted allies. Those that pass military aptitude tests will be passed as students and sent to group training with you three. That will begin their military service with the Systems Alliance. You will train until the Hegemony attacks, in which you will be redeployed as your own unit."

"Thank you Doctor Augustine, you are dismissed. My marines will escort you back to Grissom academy while I give the debriefing." Hackett's voice cut through HAX's grand gesturing.

She gave a small bow to the Admiral and walked towards the exit, smirking at the Marines as she left.

As the door closed, Lieutenant-Colonel Mifune moved to the sideboard and poured herself a drink. "Whisky Sour, Lee?"

"Good memory Kora. Care for a drink, Admiral? I'm not the only one who needs to have a bitter taste washed from my mouth." The Captain drawled from his seat on the couch.

"I'm fine Kora." Admiral Hackett moved towards the Marines and addressed them. "Mifune will address you on this detail. If you will excuse me, I need to return to Arcturus to brief the Prime Minister on our situation. Good Day N7's."

The Admiral quietly left for his shuttle on the upper docking arms of the Cruiser where his transport ship was not doubt docked. When he was gone Mifune slammed her fist into the console in fury.

"That two faced snake comes onto my ship and orders my men about then forms a retrograde plan involving adolescent soldiers? Un-fucking-believable!" Mifune raged as she brought the Captain's drink over to him."

Woolf snorted. "Augustine has always been a pit viper in society clothes. She's a cold hearted devil yes, but that doesn't mean she is wrong about this situation. We need to be putting our resources to better usage, stopping this nonsense about independent ownership and non-involvement. Still, I thought it best you kids should know that this was the revised plan. Augustine's original documents were pretty brutal by contrast."

"How exactly does one get more brutal than recruiting minors into frontline special forces units, sir?" Abby asked.

"By launching a preemptive strike on the Kite's Nest with four of our fleets and mandatory Systems wide military conscription. Augustine tore a page out from Salarian engagement and wanted to decimate the Hegemony before they even had a chance to pull their passive aggressive bullshit." Woolf took a long slurp of his drink before setting it down on the coffee table in front of him. "There was a whole think tank on this on Luna. Hackett, Singh, Lindholm, Anderson and over two dozen other military heavyweights were there. Augustine was brought in as a "Strategy Consultant" and began to espouse some hard line tactics that I'm pretty sure the Hegemony considered years before us. We formulated some less offensive measures, but she was fairly insistent on throwing her Academy into the fire."

"Why would she want to put her students in that kind of situation? Isn't that a little…?

"Contrary? Not to a woman like Augustine. She cares about her students, to the end that they provide for her family's legacy, which ends with herself. She's gambling upon your lives to make her look better."

"So why haven't you scrapped her yet and gone with more conventional methods?" Abby was on a roll.

"Well it's a double edged sword. We've looked at some of these profiles, and if we just let them go they will vanish into the woodwork. Either they are under the care of the Academy itself, or they have benefactors on Earth or other safe havens that will take them when the war starts. If we don't condition these kids, we will never get them back. L4 and L5 potential Biotics, Hackers with Salarian levels of intelligence, every prospect there would be perfect for the kinds of combat this war will be built on. Since Grissom falls under her jurisdiction, and with her connections in Parliament, on Elysium, and in the Navy we can't just snap her fingers and make her bare her neck."

"Pitcairn, Thompson, Callais would any of you like something to drink?" Mifune offered.

Mifune never offered drinks; Ward felt like he knew what the next step in this was. "I'll have a glass of the 18 year Scotch."

Abby shot him a glance. "I'll have a gin and tonic."

Jason shot both a glance, still not getting the picture. "Well, when do we ship out? When does this go into effect?"

Mifune turned back to him slowly. "After we are finished here, you will go to your rooms and each pack your footlockers worth of gear. You will collect dossiers on the students and then depart for the hanger bay, where you shuttle will be waiting. Now, what will you be having?"

Jason nodded slowly, but not thickly. "We have any Molson's left?"

Mifune grabbed a bottle and tossed it to Jason, which he caught deftly. "Drink up, the clock's winding down, and it's a long flight."

* * *

**Now we are getting the ball rolling! I know there is a lot of exposition here, so bear with me. The whole point is to try and fill in any canon I have changed from the game without making it a slog. Basically put, everything you love small detail wise about Mass Effect is still there. The bigger story elements have been changed to accomodate this particular scenario, but for now just sit back and let me try to fill in some of the blanks.**

**Now, for everyone who thinks this isn't very fun or is too heavy so far, just wait for the next chapter. These first two bits were merely to set the stage for the rest of the story, which is a bit of a high school AU trope but subverted because why not? There are no major characters from the Mass Effect games here. Jack isn't a teacher, Kahlee Sanders isn't here, there are no references to anything like that. You might get some down the road, but for the moment have fun with the idea of nothing but OC's, well rounded and with pros and cons, all around.**

**If you have any questions, suggestions or comments please feel free to drop me a line or write a quick review. I will always try to reply if you post a review or send a PM.**

**Also, if you haven't you should be reading IBayne's terrific Galaxy at War: N7 fiction, which is what inspired this. That cat can write something fierce, so go read his sprawling, action packed fiction. :D**

**Until next time readers. Blue-Jaye, out.**


	3. The Transit

_Aboard the SSV Seattle, Orbiting the Planet Elysium. _

_Year: 2186; Two hours following the briefing._

**-/\/**7-

Two hours following the briefing, the three N7's had gathered their meager possessions into their footlockers, checked in any borrowed gear to the clueless requisitions officer, and waited in the shuttle bay for their transport to arrive. Mifune was waiting for them when they arrived, a resigned look on her face.

"When do we check in with you for reports and changes in the mission's parameters?" Abby asked, hoping to receive an answer different from the one she anticipated.

"You won't, not with me at least. Captain Woolf is your handler for the mission. You will report to him on changes in the mission and your other weekly reports."

Ward and Abby had dreaded this moment since the debriefing two hours prior. It explained the introduction of Captain Woolf more clearly now, which was small relief all things considered. Jason looked thrilled with the news.

"Working under Captain Woolf?! This is fantastic!"

Abby socked Jason in the arm, hard enough for him to react. "Show some respect jackass!" she hissed at the burly Marine.

"No Abby, he's right. I've known Jackson for a long time, and though he may be a wild card I trust him. He's an asset to the Alliance, and he always has his men's best interest at heart. He's also about the only man able to stand the presence of a woman like HAX."

The three N7's gaped at their former CO as though she had grown a second head. Mifune shrugged before replying. "What? Do you think the only thing I do in my free time is devise new methods of discipline for my crew? I knew that… woman when I was merely a grunt on Elysium. She hasn't changed, save for the gray in her hair."

Ward had never seen Mifune so relaxed and easy going before. Although now they were merely Marines in her vicinity and not her direct subordinates which may have explained her much less reserved attitude.

The shuttle arrived shortly afterwards to take them to Grissom Academy. Woolf entered the shuttle bay just as the shuttle landed and boarded with his new charges. Mifune gave each of them hearty hugs before allowing the shuttle to depart. She had spent a full year with those fresh faced Marines, who remained bright despite some of the things they had seen. Even through the training at Fort Charles Upham, the raids on Batarian Slaver ships, the attacks on two dozen separate pirate camps, and the devastation during Gilbert Raid the N7's had maintained a sterling record of service and duty in the face of anything that was thrown at them. She would miss the big bear with a heart of Gold, Jason Pitcairn. She would miss the analytical and brassy Abigail Callais. And she knew she would miss the cooler than ice, smoother than silk operator Ward Thompson. Kora Mifune had lost three of her best operatives today, and for that only a glass of brandy would help to ease the pain.

* * *

The shuttle ride was quiet, with only the humming of the engine and intermittent communications of the pilot as the only background noise.

Woolf, expectedly twiddling his thumbs, started the conversation. "You three will be responsible for assessment of the individuals at Grissom Academy- at least that is what you have been told will be your mission. It was a necessary half-truth. You three will eventually assess the best Grissom has to offer, but you will also be conditioning them for the war. Whether or not they are fit for this upcoming fight you will make sure they are ready. They may cling to their insecurities, weaknesses; others may hold onto past scars and wounds, refusing to fight to honor their dead. Others may disobey this command outright, as their lofty morals may be offended." Woolf spits out the word as if it were a stale wad of tobacco.

"Regardless of their hesitation, it is your job to convince, cajole or harass if necessary these students into being ready for the war. Here, however, is the tricky bit: They can't know about the Batarian situation. Now, that isn't to say they can't form their own conclusions. Every Alliance power player, business mogul and otherwise Patrician member of the Alliance worth their salt has their kid in Grissom. On top of that, these kids aren't stupid: They're smart and well connected. It's only a matter of time before they piece together the details and realize how royally fucked this whole system is if the Hegemony hits here first." Woolf pauses for a moment before pulling out a long cigar, cutting it, and lighting it. Immediately several emergency lights went off and the shuttle pilot yelled at Woolf to put it out, as he's damaging the air systems on the shuttle.

"Piss off Albright, this shuttle has Elkoss Combine Zephyr filtration. Dr. Augustine's benefactors smoke like chimneys and you don't bug them off for it, so shut the fuck up and keep driving!" The Captain continues puffing away while handing out three data pads to the N7's. "These are the promised dossiers on 40-50 of the students here at Grissom. They make up the top scoring students in the entire academy and the only ones the Alliance is interested in fast tracking to N-Level training. It's a potent mix of kids: You've got Earthborn elites, colonist kids from every rock from Luna to Sanctum, Spacers from every damn space station in the Galaxy. You've got the rich and the poor; the entitled and the humble; the broken and whole. There are even files here that you can't access. Not until I get permission from Alliance command."

Ward looked up from the scrolling names to challenge that statement. "You're telling me the Alliance gave us dossiers that we can't access?"

Woolf nodded. "Not for the time being at least. Most are open books you can read up on and gain the edge over when it comes to winning them over. But the two or three you can't access obviously have some red flags the brass needs to look over before it exposes to you. I've got my suspicions but damned if I risk my ass for telling you three." Woolf took a long drag of his cigar and leaned back against his chair meditatively.

"If we can't be clear about why we are here, than how are we going to explain the reason behind why we are really here?" Jason asked.

"Jase, it's clear we have some kind of aliases for being here. I doubt Woolf would send us in without coverage, especially if his background is Omega."

Woolf cracked his now famous grin at Lieutenant Callais. "Clever girl. I'm sure you've figured out why I was assigned as your handler as opposed to Mifune then, haven't you? Well go on now, no need to get all formal on me. Spit it out!"

Abby looked a little off guard by the relaxed regulations Woolf had given her. Still, an order was an order regardless of how unorthodox it may have seemed. Abby always obeyed orders. "Omega is nothing but gangland wars, crime rings and layers upon layers of duplicitous backstabbing. There wasn't any red tape for you to get bogged down in, and your whole job was to prevent any one power from becoming too strong. You probably had your agents infiltrate human based syndicates like Eclipse or Blue Suns and had them war with each other and Blood Pack when necessary. In order to do that, you had to put on some pretty incredible acts. The job there was all about redirection and subtle manipulation. Mifune would have been atrocious at it. She was a battlefield tactician and roughneck through and through. Put her on a small scale battle with a team of recruits and she'd have a victory inside a week. Put her on Omega and someone or a whole bunch of someone's would end her in the same time span."

"Damn shame you never got assigned to my cell Callais. I could have used some of that thinking in the knuckleheads they gave me. With the exception of the Marquis they were all a wash. Good at infiltration but shit at long term planning. More often than not I had to enter the fray in order to steer one group against another. But this isn't about reminiscing, it's about what happens next: I'm going to handle you three from outside of Grissom, you three will go to Grissom as you are: N7 marines. You will hold training and entry exams for students, before working with those who pass on an individual basis. The reward has yet to be decided, but these students are all ambitious. They won't turn down a chance at something that will get them further. Any who do, well it's your job to make sure they sign up."

"All right, but why _us_?" Jason asked. He was still wrapping his head around the concept.

"Good god son keep up! Well, not all of you can be rocket scientists so that's to be expected. My cell doesn't have the marks for the kind of training we need to give these students. Good shots and loyal men yes. Highly proficient in marksmanship, hand to hand combat and battlefield thinking, you three could easily take the positions by that alone. But on top of that Miss Callais is an accomplished biotic and Mr. Thompson here has shown some considerable aptitude with both piloting and some moderate Combat Technical Skills. All in all these are just the things we need to give these kids a crash course in. Once they pass their final examinations we can send them straight off to Basic on Titan with you as their instructors and have them field ready in the span of three months at most. By then the Hegemony will be chomping at the bit to take on the Alliance, if they haven't already."

"What about the basics? You can't make a marine in… what is it…" Jason scrolled through his data pad. "ONE MONTH?! Christ you want us to whip these greenhorns into N7's in a month? That's impossible!"

Woolf merely sighed and looked towards his other two charges.

Ward took him up on it. "Jase buddy, Grissom has been and always will be a military school. The whole school is basically what would happen if Harvard and West Point had a baby. These kids already have class tracks, right Woolf?"

"That they do Lieutenant Thompson. Since these kids are all going into either officer roles or support classes, don't expect to see any pure Soldiers. You will however see the Biotic and Tech classes. The students have already been placed into the areas based on scores and have chosen their classes based recommendations and preferences. It's an easy training job: Assess their individual skills, fix what they don't have perfect and convince them into not slipping back onto Earth or somewhere myself and my superiors don't have clearance. If they stick within the Officer Corps we can redirect them into your N-Training program. Otherwise they will stick within the N-Training regimen."

Ward nodded; processing the huge amounts of info he had been given. "Just two little things then: We don't have the subterfuge experience the Omega Cell had. How are we going to stack up against this?"

Woolf nodded. "Under Mifune you guys were classic Black ops: Classified briefs on a ghost ship out in colony space, sometimes in the Terminus hunting the bad guys and not having to think about your mission. You were given a set of tasks, and all you had to do was do them. The simplicity was staggering, but the difficulty was what made it impossible for other Marines to get done. This is the reverse. Any marine can teach a man to aim a gun; the difficulty arises in the complexity of the situation: How do you pass off sending a group of Special Forces soldiers to teach a bunch of adolescents how to fight dirty without turning it into a PR shit storm. The answer to which is simple: Cloak the facts in half-truths and plausibility. The media would be upset by someone like me or Mifune turning the "Classrooms" of Grissom into a true war machine. But three younger Marines who don't look like they have been through the shredder? The Media won't bat an eyelash. The perceptive ones might sense something is off, but the major networks who report on it won't think twice." Woolf took one last drag of his Cigar before snuffing it out in a small, airtight canister. "The Marquis and I will teach you all you need to know while you teach them all they need to know. Comprende?"

"All right, but that brings me to my other point: Why them? Any marine showing the skill and initiative can be selected for N-Training. It's not the individual who makes the soldier, it's the training and adherence to it that makes the men like Anderson and the women like Mifune."

"Well don't you love to wax poetic. You and the Marquis will get along like peas in a pod. No bucko, it isn't the skill that makes an N7 an N7. But allow me to keep this spoiler free for you: Once you get a load of what these kids can do, you'll work all the harder to keep them off of Earth and into your program. Now read up on your lines, because we've got fifteen minutes before the shuttle lands in the hanger, and from what the Marquis tells me, you've got quite a welcoming party waiting for you."

* * *

**Again, we got a fair amount of setup in this chapter, and if you love your action then bear with me for one more chapter. Things are going to get interesting and heated when you meet the students of the Academy. I have a clear path for this story, as opposed to Cowboys, my big Fallout OC Epic, which is the "Let's make shit up as we go!" story.**

**This story has a definite arc and layout, and I just need to fill in the in betweens with characterization, training montages, tension, and tons of imagery and battle scenes. It will get wordy at times, but then you will get some class, R.A. Salvatore styled fight scenes. I wouldn't say they are that good, but that level and feeling is what I am aiming for.**

**Woolf is meant to sound like a cross between Slim Pickens and Brick (as played by Paul Newman). It's supposed to be the bastard son of genteel antebellum south and twangy post reconstruction country boy. If you couldn't find a good rhythm to it until now, let that be your marker for what it should sound like in your head. **

**Questions or comments? PM me or review.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review and keep the writing machine going! I do appreciate the criticism, good or constructive. **

**Expect another chapter today, because I am still writing :P**


	4. The Introductions Part I

_Aboard the SSV Seattle, Orbiting the Planet Elysium. _

_Year: 2185.1900 Hours_

**-/\/7-**

Dr. Augustine left the N7's in a storm, leaving the three Marines feeling more than slightly awkward given their circumstances.

After all, it was perfectly normal to be left alone in the middle of a hanger bay by an irate Headmistress and her bulldog of a security chief with no one to show you along. The N7's grabbed their footlockers from beside the area where their shuttle had been and exited the hanger bay. Students and staff moved through the hallways with casual ease. Large open air classrooms were constructed with asymmetrical ceilings, with plenty of glass and steel. Across from the hanger bay exit was a wall, upon which a trim young man in Grissom Uniform was leaning. He was roughly 5'11, with a fit build and a casual stance. Messy black hair framed an average face of olive complexion, all the while grinning at the three.

"Nice cowboy speech, though it won't earn you any favor with Madame Augustine." His accent was a wild drawl that Ward had never heard before. Jason cracked a huge smile however.

"I'm guessing you are the infamous Marquis we keep hearing about?" Ward posed to the young man.

"Spot on, Cher. You must be Miss Mifune's dangerous trio I keep hearing about. Allow me to introduce myself, Warrant Officer Emile Beaumier, 13th Marquis of Saint-Nazaire."

"What exactly is a Cajun doing with a title of French Nobility?"

"Y'all will figure it out eventually, but for now I've got to get you all setup on the situation here."

"How long have you been here Emile?"

"Less than three weeks." A chorus of raised eyebrows forced him to explain.

"Woolf and Madame Augustine have been collaborating on this for a lot longer than you think. I was brought in to scout talent, you three though? You were brought on to polish these diamonds in the rough."

"So you did all of the legwork for these dossiers that I've read and Ward and Jason have been pawing through?"

"Hey! I was reading!" Jason protested.

"At a snail's pace?"

"Abby, enough." Ward growled. If Emile was half of what Woolf implied he was, they were talking to a highly trained Marine with enough political and strategic experience to rival the three of them combined. He would not have some petty bullshit going down between the two of his teammates.

Abby shook out of her teasing state and gave a nod to Ward. All the while Emile's grin nearly touched both of his ears.

"You three are going to be fun to work with." Emile activated his Omni-Tool and began typing. "I've sent each of you Layouts of the school, with all of the rooms marked. I've also tagged all of the candidates for the N7 program. Here at the academy there are five separate common rooms where the students are housed."

Ward took a look at the map. The primary hanger bays were located on the fore part of the station, while the common rooms were spread out in a 180 degree arc on the aft part of the station, all surrounding a gigantic common hall of some kind.

"As you can see, the Adept Common room is on the far left, the Vanguards are on the far right, and the Sentinels take up the centermost room, with the Infiltrators on their left and the Engineers on their right. I'll get your footlockers back to our assigned quarters."

"We can get our own things, thanks." Abby protectively held onto her footlocker.

"I'm not here as Alliance, Cher. I'm a student of Grissom Academy, and if I magically start walking around with the three of you the more perceptive students will put three and three together. So, I'll be a good little student and take your footlockers to your rooms. The Common rooms for the classes have kitchens and lounges, so if you need to take a leak or grab a drink, they won't mind."

"We'll start with the Adepts and work out way around the half-circle. It should only take us a little bit to introduce ourselves."

As the three moved to head off, Emile halted them with an open palm. "A word of advice though: While talented, these kids are… well they're a mixed crowd. You have to be versatile if you want to win them over, so play it as it lays."

"We appreciate it Emile. We'll meet up with you after we make our rounds."

"Pleasure to meet you three. Bonswa." With that Emile grabbed the two nearest footlockers and loaded them onto a dolly.

* * *

The three N7's moved through the hallways, seeing fewer and fewer students as they advanced towards the Dormitories.

After what Abby clocked in as thirty minutes of walking, the N7's had finally arrived outside of the Adept Dormitory. A cheerful looking woman in the dark blue robes of the Academy's teaching staff greeted them and allowed them entrance. When the three N7's entered into the Dormitory they found themselves taken aback:

Rich, hardwood floors spread out over a massive common room. Inviting, posh couches and chairs were lazily scattered around the room, sometimes by themselves or in pairs; more often in trios or larger groupings. Soft music played in over the loudspeakers, and many of the students were either talking quietly amongst themselves or doing everything but classwork it seemed: Board games, meditations, puzzles.

Across the back wall were two separate doors marked as the bedrooms for each gender. An ornate kitchen sat to the right of the N7's, and the circular common room had a series of hallways opposite to the kitchen. Ward spotted signs for "Offices" and "Biotic Chambers". Despite the opulence of the room, Ward found himself uncomfortable with the atmosphere. Growing up on an Alliance Military vessel meant living a very stringent life, and living as an N7 afforded even fewer luxuries while on tour.

Putting his nerves at ease, Ward looked to the bright and cheerful instructor who had let them in.

"I'll allow you to mingle among the students. I will be watching for supervision, but clearly you three are not going to cause any trouble here."

The three N7's nodded to the instructor before gathering into a small huddle. "Check your markers and try to focus on the targets, but don't turn anyone away. Jase, you go right and talk to anyone there. Abby, you check out these Biotic chambers. I'll take the main room."

The three N7's went on their separate ways, garnering attention from several students. The majority seemed lost in a trance however. Ward took note of a pair of students huddled up on a couch. The girl was around 17 to 18 years old, while the boy couldn't be older than 15. The girl was sweetly stroking the boy's hair, murmuring something into his ears. Ward expected to see a look of admiration on the boy's face. Instead he saw a look of crippling pain spread over his features.

The girl looked up at Ward, noting his N7 BDU. "Can I help you?" She was pretty in a willowy sort of way, with long brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Her eyes were a light brown, and stood out against her small face. The boy she was comforting was small, even against the girl's light frame. He couldn't have stood taller than 5'6, and his red rimmed eyes were bleary from crying.

"Is everything all right, Miss…?"

"Harper Styron-Goodwin and Liam is fine. Hush sweetheart. The migraines will dissipate soon."

Bingo, Ward thought. Harper Styron-Goodwin and Liam Allen III: Two marks on the sheet down. Both came from old money earth families. The Styron's had were originally investors who inherited a Holdings Company out of Nebraska. Over the years they had invested heavily in dozens of companies on Earth, primarily in the Communications trade. Liam meanwhile came from a long line of New England bankers. Ward tried to remember more about the younger student... something about being fitted for implants when he was merely five years old…

"Does Liam have L2 implants?" Ward asked earnestly.

Harper shook her head. "His father outfitted him with the first batch of L3 implants. They still carried the faulty wiring of the L2 line before it was ironed out more than a year later."

"I'm sorry Liam. I can't understand how much pain you are in, but my teammate was also on L3 implants before transferring into the Navy. After several surgeries they were able to get her some different implants."

"No… no more surgery Harper, no please…" The boy shook his head weakly.

In a flash Harper's mood went from placid to acidic. "What do you want from us?"

"The Navy is looking to fast track high performing students for-"

"Not interested. Please leave."

"If you would allow me to-"

"Leave. Now." The faint biotic glow surrounded the willowy girl. Ward had learned through years of experience the strength of a Biotic by their glow. Harper was practically blue.

"At once Miss. Have a good day."

Harper's Biotics flared down, though her face remained as stony as it had been. Ward moved off, hoping his comrades were having better luck.

* * *

Jason found one of his marks in the Kitchen. A young redhead was singing softly to herself while flitting around the kitchen.

"Excuse me."

"Greetings! I didn't see you there gracious brother. How may I assist you?" The young girl was still twirling around the room, still not facing Jason. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Miss, could I talk to you for a moment?"

"Absolutely, I'm just making dinner. It keeps my mind occupied." As she twirled around the room she ignored the every counter space and flat surface. For another minutes she continued to twirl around the room, ignoring both Jason and the physical action of making dinner.

"Are you interested in signing up for the test exams we will be having later on?" Adrienne froze in place, and whirled on Jason. "Military exams? By the will of the Goddess, I cannot bring harm to my fellow child. Why would you ask such a thing, Son of Mars?"

Jason gritted his teeth. "For officer duties Miss…?

"Adrienne Germaine. You may call me Foxglove Sacredheart however. That is the name the Goddess has seen fit to bestow upon me."

Jason willed his hand to stay at his side, as it was coming dangerously close to palming his forehead in frustration.

"Adrienne, you do realize this is a Military school, correct?"

"Grissom isn't a Military academy, it's just a school." The girl's hippy-dippy speech vanished completely, and it it's place was the voice of a very insecure girl.

"Well, I'm afraid to tell you that-"

Jason found himself staring face to face with a stocky, royally pissed off young man who had placed himself between Jason and Adrienne."

"Take a hike thumper, The Devil Dog and I need to have a word."

"Adrienne cowered at the sight of the phase shifted student and practically ran out of the open kitchen space.

"Mr…?"

"You don't need my name. You don't need her name either."

"Pretty hostile environment you are setting here."

"Get out of this kitchen, or I will physically remove you."

Jason was pretty sure he could take this asshole if he tried anything stupid. Biotics tended to fold pretty quickly after their barriers failed.

As if reading his thoughts, the young man's Biotics lit up. 'Well shit, L5 implants? May as well get a goddamned rocket launcher for that kind of Biotic barrier. The young man still didn't flinch. '

Jason moved into a fighting stance.

* * *

Abby walked through a long curving hallway, filled with small chambers on either side. Glass doors gave no privacy to a myriad of students, silently meditating with Biotics, or flexing their barriers. None looked out of their doors at Abby, indicating a sound proofed room, or perhaps two way glass. Abby would have to ask Emile about that later.

As she walked through the halls, one of her markers pinged up in a room on her right. Abby turned to see something phenomenal:

A young Asian woman with a black pixie cut was sitting cross legged in her room, a light Biotic glow emanating from her body. She wore a white tank top and a pair of black sweatpants. Tattoos of various colors and designs wove around her arms. Abby saw Asari hieroglyphs, Turian brands and Salarian family crests; there were trees and rivers, Greek letters and other symbols.

The young woman's look wasn't the most important thing about her however: What were truly impressive were her biotic actions. With her eyes closed, the young woman was painting. With biotic maneuvers, the paintbrushes ghosted over the canvas, making slow deliberate marks.

A large canvas was hung across from the girl, paintbrushes slowly swirling around the material, painting several spirals in a trio: A triskelion if Abby remembered her ancient Earth history. Abby knocked on the door.

The girl's eyes remained closed, but her paintbrushes slowly lowered to a terrycloth sheet below the canvas. As they settled, the girl's eyes snapped open and latched onto Abby. She gracefully rose up and pressed a combination next to the door.

"You must be Abby. My name is Tsuruko, but Sue is fine by me." Abby shouldn't have found herself surprised by the girls' non-accented, American voice given her tattoos and apparel.

"I'm not from Japan. Third Generation Citadel settler. And like I said, we need to walk back to the common room."

"I- Wait why?"

Sue was already striding back from where Abby had come from, forcing Abby to jog to catch up with her. "Why are we heading back? Are we interrupting you peers?"

"No, the rooms are isolation chambers, and any other biotic would have heard you if you had set a bomb off outside their door. We need to get back to the common room."

The two strode along, the hum of Biotics emanating from the Kitchen.

Sue's face darkened furiously. "Not this shit again Gideon, how many times do we have to go through this?"

The instructor was herding the students out of the common room and gave an untoward look to Abby. The two reached the kitchen and found Ward trying to talk down a very furious looking redhead brimming with Biotics. Jason was slumped against the counter, getting up after apparently being thrown across the room.

"I need you to calm down Mr. Lewis-"

"Get off of my station you Alliance trash, I won't stand for this!" The Biotic raged, throwing a warp ball at Ward. Ward prepared to duck when Sue leaped at Gideon, throwing up a Biotic bubble around herself and the Marine.

The Warp crashed against the outer shield. Sue, landing on her feet, stood up and gave Gideon the middle finger.

The irate red head glared at her. "Sticking up for the Alliance little miss peacemaker?"

"Damn straight you jackass. You of all people should be thankful for them coming to Grissom."

Abby helped Jason sit up, her own Biotics starting to flare. Despite their teasing, Abby was very protective of her boys, who were equally protective of her.

Gideon glanced between the Marines and Sue before allowing his Biotics to power down. "I'm going to bed. Don't let these fucks near me again Tsuruko, or I won't hesitate to end them." With his threat, he stormed off towards the men's quarters.

The young instructor strode into the kitchen. "I need you three to leave, you've upset my students."

Tsuruko turned to the woman and stared her down. "I'll be in Orion Hall Professor Mason."

"No you won't, you need to observe curfew."

Sue snorted. "So I need to report to HAX that you've been screwing her Captain instead of pulling hall monitoring, right?"

Mason blanched. "You wouldn't…"

"I would, and be thankful Gideon doesn't know, or he'd be even more reckless. I need to have a word with our guests, so I'll be back before 1300 hours. Liam's been having more fits, so make sure to up his medications. Adrienne also needs her antidepressants about now, so make your rounds and leave the adults to their business."

Mason frowned at Tsuruko, but relented and walked off to attend to her students.

Tsuruko turned back to the N7's. "We need to have a long talk, walk with me to the Engineer's dorms. I promise to give you the full rundown."

* * *

**All right! Now we are moving ahead with meeting Grissom Academy's students, There will be four more chapters similar in layout to this one: The N7's go to a dormitory for a class and you meet the focus characters. If that sounds like too much information to handle, don't worry. I'm already setting up a secondary dossier fic to accompany this so you can keep track of who is who. The visits will also vary wildly in tone, imagery and plot. No two will be the same, and all will have different kinds of entertainment: Intrigue? Check. Dialogue? Check II. Fighting? Check III.**

**I will have another chapter up for you guys soon enough :D In the meantime, send your PM's to me or leave a review.**

**Thanks for reading, and until next time, Blue-Jaye out!**

**AN: Events from ME3 (Leviathan, Omega, Citadel) will be addressed as the fic goes on. Nothing will feel shoehorned, obviously but I don't want canon divugances if Bioware throws some curveballs with any new info. Until then, enjoy and make sure to PM me/Review if you have Canonical questions about this fics setting/characters. As I posted in the summary, there will be cameos from all of the Normandy's Squad and Crew save Shepard. Expect them in this fic and it's sequel ;)**


	5. The Introductions Part II

_The Jon Grissom Academy. _

_Year: 2185; Time: 2000 Hours_

**-/\/**7-

Sue wasted little time in getting the group back up to speed. The group also adjusted to the even, purposeful steps she made as they progressed down a labyrinth of cross-connecting hallways and walkways.

"You will have a hard time recruiting the adepts to your cause. The training methodologies of the whole corps are very pacifist while the students themselves do not have front line mentalities. You might find a single fighter in every thirty students you survey."

"Such as Gideon Lewis?"

"Far from it. Gideon is a strong biotic, but actually more reserved than anything else."

Jason scowled. "I'm not sure what you interpret as 'reserved' but I have a feeling our definitions vary, Miss."

"On the contrary Lieutenant Pitcairn, Gideon has the soul of poet. He can get defensive and occasionally moody but far from him to be openly antagonistic."

"Then why the Alliance hatred? That doesn't just spring from nowhere Sue." Abby inquired.

Sue sighed and looked at the female N7. "Gideon is from Mindoir."

The three N7's whipped out their data pads simultaneously and began searching for Gideon.

"My report doesn't say anything about Mindoir." Jason exclaimed.

Abby supported him, tapping away at the Data Pads menus. "Neither does mine. Why would the Alliance lie to us?"

"Dossiers on the top ten percent?" Sue asked, as though inquiring about the weather.

Ward looked to see her glancing over his shoulder, scanning the names of the students. When she looked up from the data pad their eyes met.

"What? This is Grissom Academy! HAX lives for that kind of shit. Top earners get the best perks and assignments. Biotics have it easy compared to tech students, we just have to pass exams and not ruin our amps. The engineers on the other hand… It's not pretty."

"Why is that exactly?" Jason asked.

"It's better seen then explained. Unlike some of the other groups here though, they actually work better together than some of the others." The three stopped outside a similar looking door manned by two black unformed security guards. Neither saluted the N7's, a fact not missed by the three marines. Jason glowered at the guards.

"ERCS Spooks, don't even try with the formalities big guy. All right, I've got some errands to run before the curfew falls over the whole ship." She looked at Jason sympathetically. "I am sorry Gideon lashed out at you. I will talk with him about service. He could use some movement in his life. In the meantime, anyone else you want me to swing for tomorrow?"

"That's awfully generous of you Sue, but why do you want to help us out?"

She merely smiled. "I'm a big fan of the program. And you know, I've got a great appreciation for the armed services. I'm such an elated fan, a wolf cub of to the big bad wolves of the program if you will."

Abby sent her a message with the names: 'Allen, Germaine, Styron-Goodwin, Lewis, Hi.' She winked at Ward before heading back to the Adept Dormitories. "I'll work my magic." She emphasized her last words with biotic jazz hands.

Abby and Ward exchanged a silent look. Jason was still frowning at the ERCS guards. "We need make introductions with the staff. Please move." Ward asked.

"I'm sorry sir, but all dormitories are off limits without permission from an administrator."

"We have access. Check for our names: Ward Thompson, Jason Pitcairn, Abigail Callais. We are right there." Ward pressed, internally wondering if HAX had even granted them access.

The guard eyed Ward suspiciously before opening his Omni-Tool. "I don't see your names on here. I can't allow you three in."

"Bullshit, I caught that last panel before you closed it. Allow us in."

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave once more before I call Captain-"

"Andrew Heifetz. I'll put him on right now if you'd like, then I'll explain to him how you denied three of Headmistress Augustine's guests access. Seeing as this is both an Alliance Naval Station and we are N7 marines, and you two being in the employ of the Alliance this will go straight to the Alliance Military Courts." Abby finished smoothly. The words were neutral, but the tone was enough to give a deaf man pause.

The silent guard went from smug to pale instantly. The offending guard lost a measure of his confidence. After tensely staring at Abby, the Guard reopened the Omni-Tool and scanned over the three marines. "You three have access to the Dormitories now. Please do not interrupt the students at work. All photographic devices are banned from usage here, and any attempt to utilize surveillance equipment will be forbidden and punishable with seditious actions.

Ward nodded to the man before stepping into a long hallway capped by another door at the end of the room. The doors closed behind the three N7's. As the three walked towards the door a humming filled the room. The pitch was shrill, but overall it was quiet. As it increased in sound the three N7's stopped in their tracks and assessed the walls.

An electronic face appeared on the wall to their left. "Good evening honored guests. The time is currently 8:11 PM, the day is Tuesday, and your Omni-Tools will be disabled for the remainder of your visit. Please do not disrupt the Engineers while they are working. Have a wonderful rest of the day."

With an electronic hiss, the humming increased. The Omni-Tools were filled with loud, rumbling static until the three N7's turned them off. Jason turned to Ward and mouthed 'What, the fuck?!'

Ward gave a nod in the affirmative as the humming lowered and the doors at the end of the hallway opened to reveal the Common Room.

* * *

As opposed the luxurious interior of the Adepts room, the Engineers Common Room was brightly lit, furnished spartanly, and sparsely populated. The change was so dramatic that the N7's were surprised by the change. Given the design of the rest of the ship, it seemed like a radical departure that the Engineering students were living modestly in comparison. A stocky Caucasian student was casually chatting with a gaunt Hispanic student whose dark expression contrasted the Saxon to a comical degree.

The Hispanic whispered something to the Saxon, who wheeled around to face the N7's.

"Greetings friends! Welcome to Grissom Academy, what brings you to our fine arc of the sphere tonight?" The stocky student spoke with a light British accent. He had short brown hair styled with gel, and bright mahogany eyes.

"Just checking out the degrees and angles, Mr.…?" Ward knew that she knew who the students were. Asking them was just confirming looks.

"Oh, right. Oswell Raglan at your service, my friend is… Harado! Stop acting like Cas and get over here!"

"I'll be right back." The Hispanic student half-shouted, half-murmured across the room. He moved through a set of doors and out of sight, leaving the N7's alone with Oswell.

"Don't mind him, he's friendly enough just work driven. He never lightens up. Anyways, you three must be the N7's we've heard all about. Truth be told it would have been nice to leave the Dormitories…" Oswell glanced around the empty room, as if looking for someone, or something.

Satisfied, he moved closer to the trio and whispered. "Will talk later about conditions, for now, we need to get you introduced to the others. Just watch what you say and follow along. The Steward could pop in at any time."

Harado returned with a large group of students. Ward caught on that the average skewed towards younger when it came to the groups' collective age. The crowd stopped just shy of five feet to the Marines.

Ward cleared his throat. "Good evening students of Grissom Academy. My name is First Lieutenant Ward Thompson, N7 Marine. I'm sure by now you three have heard about our arrival-"

Two dozen pairs of eyes widened at Ward. It wasn't surprise, but complete and utter joy. Ward knew that look, and what was going to come next. A pale, petite girl observed the N7's intently, watching Ward's every move. Another girl, slightly older than the first, was sweetly smiling, eyes brimming with tears. A young man with a southeastern-asian look nodded approvingly at the trio before elbowing the girl who was beginning to cry. She wiped the tears threatening for form at the corners of her eyes and smiled again.

"We will be accepting applicants for the entrance exam into an N-Level training group. The exams will be held in several weeks. We look forward to having you sign up for the program. We will be here to answer questions for as long as we can."

Abby and Jason moved to the side, where Harado began to herd the majority of the students. Oswell turned to Harado and nodded. "Ava, Lily, Javas get over here!" The inquisitive and crying girls along with the southeastern-Asian young man moved over to Ward and huddled behind Oswell.

"The Steward is distracted, look I'll make this quick: There is more going on than it looks like-"

"Enough of this horseshit. Guards on a sealed common room? Constant internal surveillance? Disabled electronics? Is this a school or a prison?!" Ward hissed at Oswell.

"Guards? Oh Christ, that's new." Oswell's face paled before he shook his head and regained his composure. "It sure as hell seems like it Lieutenant. I can't say much, before the Steward starts to watch. Just trust me when I say we will go over this later." He motioned for the older girl to come forward. "Lily, you are the only one who can get out of here on a daily basis. You need to explain the situation to them tomorrow. I know you can sweetheart, don't panic. We are going to get through this."

"I want a straight answer!"

Oswell blanched as the humming returned to the room. The same VI interface returned to the common room. Curfew has fallen. All visitors are required to leave at once. The lighting switched from white to blue, and the crowd dispersed fluidly, the other students began to slip away back towards the various hallways, leaving Oswell and the N7's.

"You need to go now, I'll talk to Doctor Isaacson about permission for leaving. Until then, go meet up with the others. Check in with the other cubs." The lighting switched to orange, Oswell saluted the N7's and moved out of the room. The doors sealed around the common room, save for the exit. The three exited the Engineering Dormitory and back into the sphere.

* * *

Once back outside Ward turned to Abby. "I fucking knew it."

Jason cocked his head at Ward. "Apart from that messed up bullshit with the VI, what was that about the cubs and shit?"

Abby pinched the bridge of her nose. "Emile placed sleeper agents in the Dormitories. I bet you twenty credits that we will meet three more if we were to go on."

"Which is why I need you to go track down Emile and get some straight answers out of him. Jason and I will go see the other dorms. Hopefully they aren't nearly as fucked up as that was."

Abby nodded and pulled up her map. "My Omni-Tool says he is on the other side of the ship… with our gear."

"Double time Lieutenant!" Abby strode off towards Emile's signal, leaving the two N7's two ponder their ever more disorienting situation.

* * *

Writing this was a bear, and I since I rarely suffer from writer's block I will perceive that as a bad omen.

This story wasn't originally going to have Grissom be screwed up, but I felt like some prime issues with the educational system can be tackled while still being Mass Effect like. It is during times such as these that I completely rely on readers like you to help me out. I've got a wonderful beta who has agreed to the Herculean task of editing and yelling at me when I do things wrong. While I do fear for her sanity, I do note that she will probably have a lot of fun bossing me around.

Until next time faithful readers, thank you for reading, post some reviews or send me PMs if you have questions, and I will see you in a few days with the Sentinels ;)


	6. The Introductions Part III

_Aboard the Jon Grissom Academy, Orbiting the Planet Elysium. _

_Year: 2185. 2000 Hours_

**-/\/**7-

The Sentinel's room was smaller than the other common rooms they had seen, and was far more utilitarian. Students conversed over class work and various exercises. Biotic maneuvers, Tech combat programs and even hand to hand combat was being practiced among the fledgling sentinels. The furniture and dressings of the Sentinels common room were worn, with tables and chairs showing all manner of scratches, nicks and indentations. Little was done to hide the damage, and their seemed to be no adult supervision amongst the students. To match the rest of the setting, neither Jason nor Ward encountered any greeting from the students or staff upon entering the common room.

"So… no professors or other students here to welcome us? What gives?" Jason asked, scanning the room for markers. He had yet to get a bead on any of his students in particular.

Ward did the same, checking his markers. As he looked up a beast of a student lumbered towards him:

He was easily seven feet tall, and weighed several hundred pounds. From his husky build, Ward doubted it was all muscle. His arms were covered in coarse black hair, and his hands could have crushed a Batarian's head between their palms. His pronounced lower jaw jutted out from his face, and a tall forehead with an equally pronounced brow gave him a decidedly Cro-Magnon look. A crooked nose asymmetrically centered a face marked by mottled skin. Displaying a vibrant example of Heterochromia, one eye was a bright shade of sky blue, while the other eye was a mixture of dull amber and chartreuse. A mop of coarse black hair sat unkempt and wild on his head. The student's movements were direct and surprisingly agile, and within several tall steps he was in front of the two marines.

"Greetings, Lieutenants of the Systems Alliance. I trust you have had an adequate and accommodating stay so far?" The student spoke in flawless English.

Ward's sense of stereotyping would have to undergo a severe reconstruction following his time on Grissom.

"If you count inept educational staff and multiple examples of child abuse as normal, then I suppose that we have." Ward answered coolly.

The large student nodded his head contemplatively. "In time, things will change. As autumnal foliage withers to dust can we then reseed its fields and bring about the passage of life. For now however, Grissom is still late in the summer of its time. And in the summer, the weeds will grow…" The Student turned his head to a corpulent Professor who was lazily commanding students to head to their Dormitories.

The man's eyes moved through the room, resting upon Ward's small circle. With furrowed brow he marched towards the group.

"Excuse me Gentlemen, but I am afraid my students are going to need their rest for the next day. Can't sleep without some decent shuteye, eh Brutus?" The man's voice was soft, but his breath stank of rotting meat and foreign spices.

"Professor Haddock, my name is Maynard Gandy, and you will do me the courtesy of addressing me as such."

"Oh Brutus, you speak so well for such an ape. Go off to bed now, the adults have some talking to do."

"Professor, my name is-"

Haddock's false joviality fell instantly. "Brutus, I control your schedule, and I have appointed you generously with minimal duties for the next three weeks. I can make that change very quickly. Now, if you don't get your sorry-"

Haddock's Omni-Tool began to beep with urgency as a VI began to speak from the device. "Automatic Warning: Door sensor tripped. Room SEN-ADM 003, Professor Christopher Marshall Haddock." A look of surprise bloomed over Haddock's face before he moved off towards his hallway, hustling to check his room and muttering curses with every step.

Ward heard an airy laugh come from the other side of the room, and as he turned he saw a lithe Middle-Eastern girl begin moving towards him. She was roughly his height, with blackened-brown hair falling around her heart shaped face.

Maynard regarded her for a moment, and then looked back towards the doorway Haddock had exited. "A broken door lock on a heavily encrypted door… sounds an awful lot like the work of Neil."

"Bad mouthing me behind my back, boyo?" A young Irishman of middling height strolled from behind a series of desks. Neil had curly brown hair and a freckled face, with mischievous brown eyes to complement an absolutely fiendish smile.

"Ahh. So you put the dissolute orphan to the task Mitra? And here I thought you were above your colleagues?"

Mitra rolled her eye. "Haddock is a bastard and Flint loves to break rules. If we allow one to act as he does, why should we deny the other?" Mitra purred to Maynard with a sensualness Ward had yet to witness among the students at Grissom. "Besides, I'm not above the rest of you. I just have to work harder. I would have sworn that outer space would be a little less sexist than the Republic. It appears I was wrong."

As she spoke a small, red headed boy crept into the room. He was definitely among the younger students at Grissom, being roughly of an age with Ava, the bright eyed girl they had met in the Engineer's Common Hall. He had a determined, grizzled look that seemed out of place on his young face.

As he moved close, Mitra affectionately ruffled his hair. Ward reached into his uniform and pulled out a flask. Mitra shook her head no, wherein the boy handed the flask over to Neil.

"Thanks Flint. You really need to show me how to do that encryption trick."

Flint's eyes narrowed. "Get your Jewish whore to do it." He shot back in a raspy voice. Mitra chuckled and ruffled his hair. Neil's eyes went wide and his face reddened. Maynard shook his head. "Flint, what have I told you about the anti-Semitism? You are far too perceptive to believe such a thing. Has Mitra been murmuring old Iranian propaganda in your ears?" Maynard gave Mitra a toothy grin as she cried in protest. As Ward watched the four interact, he noted that they got along much better than the other two teams he had seen. The adepts have been divided and aloof, while the Engineers seemed to all follow the older students on command. The Sentinels however seemed to interact with a fluid combination of camaraderie and independence.

Ward cleared his throat. He knew that his window was closing and that he needed to speak his bit before the other rooms closed him out altogether. "I know that one-"

"Four Wolf pups here Lieutenant. We've got the message loud and clear. Haddock will have to raise both hell and heaven to keep us from signing up. Keep spreading the word, and talk to Rosalind when you get to the Infiltrators. Also tell her that Neil sends his regards." The Irish boy chuckled and led Flint off to the men's dormitories.

Mitra saluted the officers before gracefully heading towards her own room. Maynard politely introduced the officers and offered his apologies for the secrecy, and that they should speak with Emile.

"Oh don't worry, I think we will." Ward finished bitterly before giving his thanks to Maynard and heading off to the Infiltrators Common Hall.

* * *

**Mini chapter to introduce some more characters. A couple things I do want to address:**

**1. The outrage you are seeing with the N7's over the deception becomes clearer as these chapters go on. If it doesn't make sense please do PM me and allow me to clear it up in the story through edits and further exposition.**

**2. Mitra is Iranian, and I will go into a lot of detail about how I think the Geopolitical climate of the world went when the Systems Alliance was established. Also neither Mitra nor Flint are anti-Semitic. Flint is an... abrasive personality. You'll get his exposition down the road, but for a short answer he's basically Zaeed 1.0.**

**3. You all will be getting a character chart listed as separate story very, very soon. I just need to update the surnames and minor details. If keeping track is getting hard for you guys, well I sympathise. Hang in there and I'll have it up ASAP.**

**All right, thanks for reading and until I get the next chapter up, enjoy :D**


	7. The Introductions Part IV

_Aboard the Jon Grissom Academy, Orbiting the Planet Elysium. _

_Year: 2185. 2100 Hours_

**-/\/**7-

Jason was quiet on the way down to the next group of students. Their short stay with the Sentinels had barely eaten into their time, and the antics Emile had sown were wearing thin on both of the N7's patience. They had been preparing to have to convince students to sign up for a top secret training program only hours before; now it merely seemed like they were Hosts confirming dinner reservations for patrons. Ward did not like the game of chess Woolf was playing. Woolf wouldn't have gone to all of this trouble just for head games with Augustine.

In short, Ward had clearly had enough bullshit for the night. Dealing with a group of high energy teenagers with varying neuroses seemed more daunting than fighting Blood Raged Krogan.

As the two officers approached the Infiltrator's Common Hall, they heard the sounds of combat drills from their positions outside the room. Skeptically, Ward opened the door to find over two dozen students drilling hand to hand combat with each other. A stern looking African man was moving between the pairs of fighters, assessing stances and movements. Ward could tell from the way he carried himself and the tone of his voice that he was ex-Military.

The man made his way towards the two N7's and offered his hand. "Greetings First Lieutenant Thompson and Second Lieutenant Pitcairn. My name is Christian Unambe and I have been tasked with turning these young men and women into the Infiltrators that the Alliance needs. Given our, _delicate_ situation so close to the Kite's Nest… you can understand my concerns. Now more than ever the Alliance will need excellent Snipers, Hackers, Spies and Close Quarters fighters. Allow me to show you some of my highest ranking students." Though accented, Unambe spoke with clear meaning and did not hesitate with any of his word choices.

"Here we Have Dustin Faris, a son of Shanxi and his sparring partner Theodora Dalton, a daughter of Brooklyn." A focused young man was attempting to place a hit on an acrobatic black girl. Both were trading quips and jokes during their sparring, which gave Ward a similar confidence to the Sentinels. The greater the cohesion between the students, the greater they would be in the field and the easier their training would become.

Ward watched as Dustin leveled a punch at Theodora's shoulder but found himself batting at air as Theodora slid underneath the hit and kicked out with her left leg, catching Dustin in the chin. Theodora then offered him a hand up, which Dustin humbly took.

The trio moved moved among the students, noting the proper attacks and forms as well as students who managed to exemplify themselves. As they moved towards the edge of the pairs they drew their attention towards a pair isolated from the others:

Jason's eyes widened as he watched two young men practically dance with each other. A tall, well -built Asian student was covered in sweat, tirelessly attempting to hit a shorter, leaner student. The Asian student delivered blow after blow in the direction of the student, who dodged the maneuvers effortlessly. They moved around each other, rolling under kicks, leaping over leg sweeps, twisting away from chops to counter with grabs, most unsuccessfully attempted.

"My top students. On the left is Kae-Song Park, who has been training with us for over three years now. He excels in most disciplines; however his Martial Arts seem to be slightly stronger than his other classes." As Unambe spoke, Kae-Song swung a fist neatly in the direction of the opposing student.

"He is a determined, if light hearted student. Should he ever apply for the N7 Division, he will make an excellent Shadow. But he will have to beat Casildo first."

As if on cue Casildo caught Kae-Song's fist with his right hand and twisted it one hundred and eighty degrees to his left. Kae grunted in pain and attempted to pull back, only to have Casildo move with the feint, delivering a harsh knee to Kae's stomach. Kae countered with a weak chop with his other hand. Casildo swatted it away coldly and delivered a palm strike to Kae's throat. Winded and wounded, Kae fell to his knees, massaging his throat, red eyed and beaten. Casildo neatly planted a roundhouse kick to his shoulder, sending the larger student sprawling on the practice mat.

Casildo held his leg in the air for the briefest of moments before reversing direction and stopping at tense standing position. He turned to face Unambe and nodded briefly. Casildo walked off towards an adjacent hallway, similar to those that Ward had seen in the other Common rooms. "Professor Unambe, I understand that this is a military facility and the need for expert tactics, but I cannot condone that level of physical damage in a mere sparring match. I need men and women who can fight, not be crippled to hospital beds."

Unambe scoffed "I concur, which is why only the best will pass. If Kae-Song had practiced harder he would not be in that predicament. What do you think Lieutenant Pitcairn? Was that too much for your _sensibilities_ to bear?"

Jason shrugged "I know that most slavers will be a hell of a lot meaner than your little dervish was, but First Lieutenant Thompson has a pretty clear point. I'd rather have intact men to work with, especially infiltrators."

"Then you have grown soft. Casildo is strong as he needs to be. If Kae-Song wishes to be better than Casildo than he must earn that right. He cannot merely stride into a sparring match and expect to win without committing his full focus and energy."

Ward and Jason gave Unambe skeptical looks but were interrupted before they could press further. A bright eyed girl with long black hair paced towards the fallen Kae-Song and helped him off of the practice mat. As she opened her Omni-tool and began to administer Medi-gel to Kae-Song's throat and wrist Unambe called out to her "Rosalind! Do not help Mr. Park up, or you will spar with Casildo first thing tomorrow morning!"

Rosalind wheeled around to face Unambe, her face a mask of fury. "At once sir, I will refuse to administer medical aid to a student in dire need of assistance. Should I break his wrist instead?" Kae moaned in disapproval, trying to sit up from the mat.

"That would be the sensible thing, yes." Unambe turned to face the rest of the room who were staring at the events with interest. "Students, you will witness a valuable lesson here: On the mats as you are now, you are not friends, you are not compatriots in training. You are enemies, and if you do not treat each other as such you will fail when the true test comes. When you are facing down a Blood Pack Vorcha in the Terminus, will he spare your life should he come to defeat you? I do not think so. Would a hungry Varren entreat you with life should he best you? Unlikely. Will the Batarian Horde think twice in giving you mercy as they jam receivers into your necks and turn you into slaves for their twisted empire? No, they will not. In combat there is no middle ground, no parlay, and no diplomacy. Only life and death are the paths you will encounter, and you will either tread down one, or the other."

The room silently watched on, any sense of playfulness and ease gone from their earlier practice. "You are dismissed. Marksmanship and stealth tests will be administered at 7000 hours tomorrow morning. Failure will result in punishments more arduous than you can imagine." The students calmly left the Common room and towards their Dormitories, none so much as whispering behind the back of their Instructor.

Unambe, satisfied in his teaching looked back upon a livid Rosalind and a recovering Kae-Song. "Let that be your only forewarning little girl, challenge me again and you will meet a far less inviting fate. Dismissed."

"Professor Unambe, we wish to have a word with your students." Unambe eyed Ward skeptically. "Permission granted. You have ten minutes, afterwards they will be unavailable. You can expect my best to sign up tomorrow morning." Unambe excused himself to his quarters, leaving Rosalind, Kae-Song and the N7's as the only individuals left in the Hall.

"What a prick." Rosalind murmured before allowing Kae-Song to lean on her shoulder. "I need to get him some proper treatment, if you will cut straight to the point Lieutenant."

"We need to speak about the training for tomorrow. How much has Emile told you?"

Rosalind looked between the two Lieutenants rapidly. "Preparation for something a lot bigger than Pirates and Petty criminals. I've already recruited the other candidates, I just don't think…" Rosalind sighed. "Look, I need to get him to bed. Drills are going to be strenuous tomorrow, and I just need to go. Is that okay? Can I go?" The ferocity Rosalind earlier showed to Unambe had melted away to reveal an overtaxed girl. Ward sympathized but thought she needed to hold composure.

"So long as the required students show up tomorrow for the signups, then yes you may. Oh and Neil sends his regards." Ward added hastily. Rosalind made a faint smile. "He's quite a hound, but a big lovable hound nonetheless. All right First Lieutenant, they'll be there. Have a good night."

"You as well Rosalind." Ward told her. "And First Lieutenant? It's Roz. You can drop the military formalities around the students. It might make you guys seem a little more… personable?" Roz looked in no shape to debate word choices and merely blew the two young men kisses before hauling a nearly unconscious Kae-Song off to the Dormitories.

* * *

**Another fairly short chapter for you guys. If it's a little obvious who gets cool backstories and who doesn't, well that is kind of the point. The mixture literally hits both ends of the spectrum. Casildo is a badass, and fro those of you who speak/know Arabic his name is a spoiler for later. No, he isn't an homage to Castiel, the name just fit with what he will be doing later. And if you like your silent, nija-esque badasses with dysfunctional childhoods... then you will love him to pieces.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated! :D**


	8. The Introductions Part V

**A/N: The fabulous KatyMaryCatherine has agreed to Beta for me, and so far I really like the changes she has made to round my chapters out. Special thanks go out to her ^_^**

* * *

_Aboard the Jon Grissom Academy, Orbiting the Planet Elysium. _

_Year: 2185. 2200 Hours_

**-/\/**7-

"All right boss, last Common Hall. One more then we can go question the fuck out of Emile. Seriously, what was he thinking?"

"I'm not sure Jase, but it's pretty clear to me that he's a pawn in one of Woolf's schemes."

"Dunno about a pawn, he seems more like a Bishop or one of those Castles things."

"A Rook, Jase?"

"Whatever man, what I mean is that he's important right? But he could also be just as in the dark as the rest of us? If Woolf treats his guys anything like he treated us then I doubt Emile was given a clear set of objectives."

"It's always possible, but I doubt anyone surviving months on Omega as a double agent stayed alive through ignorance. We'll just have to stay on our toes."

"Not too hard boss. Emotionally unstable Biotics, Psycho VI systems, Vicious mercs and some premo fucked up instructors? It's a wonder we haven't killed anything yet. Just what kind of school is HAX running? What do you do with this shit exactly?"

Ward shook his head. "I don't know yet Jase: Too many variables, not enough context. We just need to keep powering through this to get to whatever or whoever has answers."

Jason nodded and rolled his shoulders as the two stood outside the Common Hall of the Vanguards. Ward activated the door…

…To find the room in utter chaos. The Common Hall was similar to all of the others, a large circular room with hallways and doors branching out at various parts of the curve. Most of them labeled. To the far left of the room were some openings that denoted a kitchen. The rest of the room was spartanly furnished. What little furniture was comprised of tables, chairs and the occasional desk. All of it had been cleared aside for a lowered section in the center of the room. What seemed to be the whole class had gathered around the edges of the pit, cheering on a fight that seemed to be the main spectacle.

Two Biotically charged female students were throwing every weapon in their arsenal at each other. Biotic punches and flares, shockwaves and throws. A tanned girl with freckles and blonde-brown hair seemed to have the advantage over her opponent, a shorter mousy girl with glasses. The Mousy girl had a more stable control on her Biotics, but the taller girl had far more stamina, and whipped out biotic combinations are breakneck speeds.

Ward scanned the crowd, sensing a general excitement among the students. They were whispering to each other and cheering on the fight loudly with no concern for their peers in the pit. On the opposite side of the pit stood two students who looked out of place. They were merely standing with relaxed poses, not cheering or gossiping to each other, but focused watching the match. One was a dark skinned girl with wavy black hair that fell to her shoulders. Her lips were curled into a smirk as she eyed the game. The other student was a bulky young man, built as slightly shorter than Jason but with just as much bulk. A neatly trimmed goatee covered eggshell white skin. A crew cut and cold green eyes conveyed some pretty serious attitude to Ward, and his eyes flickered between the two opponents disdainfully.

"What the hell is this? Another sparring match?" Jason asked earnestly. Ward didn't think the same. Damaged furniture was thrown to the side, and students were opening up Omni-tools to…

"Jason, are those students placing bets?!" Ward whispered to his comrade. Jason looked over and nodded. "They don't have any recording equipment opened, and they aren't typing constantly, but they keep watching the game. I think you are right Ward. What instructor sanctions betting for a class?"

Ward shook his head, turning back to face the mysterious pair, only to find his eyes locked with the male. Without breaking eye contact, his lips moved, and the girl looked up, smirk still unmoving. Impossibly, it deepened as she raked her calculating eyes between the two N7's.

"Jase, we need to stop this fight, I don't see a Professor and I bet your ass this isn't routine."

"All right boss, you give the word and we'll do this." Jason readied himself to jump into the pit, where the taller girl had broken through the mousy girl's barriers. As he did he saw the young man's eyes flare with Biotic, but his counterpart laid her hand on his shoulder in reassurance, and smiled evilly at Ward before nodding in Jason's direction.

'Oh that can't be good.' Ward knew that look before. This was a girl with an ace up her sleeve. Before Ward could react Jason threw himself into the lowered pit dashed towards the taller girl with surprising agility. "Stop this crap, you're killing her!" Indeed, the taller girl had broken through the Mousy girl's barriers and had delivered some light punches to her.

The taller girl wheeled around, tear stained eyes zeroing in on Jason. "How can you stand up to this, thing?! You Alliance assholes think you are always right?!"

And suddenly it made sense to Ward: The taller girl was a colonist, and the Mousy girl was obviously some spacer or earthborn human who had ticked her off. No doubt it was some provincial, derogatory words thrown in the volatile taller girl's direction. Now an Alliance Marine had just intervened on her behalf… Fuck.

* * *

Ward raced to the edge and jumped down to try and explain. The taller vanguards Biotics flared and she threw a shockwave in their direction. Jason rolled neatly out of the way, but Ward was unlucky to get caught in the blast, sending him backwards and into the circular wall. The taller girl powered down her Biotics instantly, and the dazed Ward thought for a moment she had stopped to assess the damage and apologize. Only when he could focus on her line of sight did he realize that she was not looking at him.

The silence was so palpable that you could hear a pin drop. Students were all staring out of the ring to Ward's right, and slowly backing away from the makeshift ring. The Colony girl backed away from Ward and Jason, while the Mousy girl's face lit up in a weak smile. Ward watched as a young student descended into the ring.

He was no older than seventeen, yet he carried himself with a grace that belied a far greater maturity. Short, spiky black hair covered his head, while calm blue eyes scanned the ring at the N7's and the contenders. For a graceful figure, he couldn't have been taller than 5'7, and he probably weighed a hundred pounds lighter than Jason.

Ward caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and saw the two conspiring students move towards the edge of the ring up top. The young man with the cold eyes spoke first.

"Well, if the little Cossack hasn't shown up to save the day. Did you file your report to Augustine this time as well, little bastard?" His mocking tone barely hid the kind of seething anger that could only come from past experiences. These two had obviously had bitter history together.

The graceful student calmly peered up at his opponents, eyes shifting from soothing to spiteful in a fraction of a second. "For you two? Would I put time and energy into reporting you? Pitting two students with a history of violence against each other and organizing a betting ring would have been a brilliant maneuver…" The student looked the calculating girl in the eyes directly and finished his sentence. "…For a Vorcha hustler perhaps, but for a pair of Earthborn elitists such as yourselves it is nothing but crass and childish. And to think Helena had such high hopes for you Camilla." Camilla's eyes betrayed a very small level of anger, otherwise masked by nonchalance.

"And Victor, while I understand that the weights are your strongest class, I must correct you: I do not think that word means what you think it means: A Cossack is a Russian soldier, whereas I am Serbian. While I doubt you would tell the difference, it is as clear to me as your Industrialist father is to your streetwalker of a mother."

Victor's Biotics lit up and he charged into the pit. Ward had had enough of this bullshit. "ENOUGH!"

Victor paused, if for the briefest of seconds and faced Ward. "I am First Lieutenant Ward Thompson of the SSV Seattle, N7 Marine. As both a commissioned officer of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps and by the power granted to me by your Headmistress, Helena Augustine X, you will cease and desist all hostile actions or you WILL face the military courts not as a minor, but as a member of the Systems Military!"

"Do you take me for a child?" Victor challenged.

"As an Adult, your process will be expedited and your incarceration all the likelier. Now, _stand_ down." Ward was stable and unyielding. Victor stepped back, and powered down his Biotics. "Very well, Lieutenant. Why are you here our school?"

"Isn't that obvious Victor? They are here for their recruitment programs, and they will leave empty handed as the others have." Camilla's voice was rich and haughty, spiced by a crisp English accent. "And now that you've said your bit, you can go. You and your ape can go back to your superiors and leave this institution well enough alone-"

A roar issued from a side passage, as a disheveled woman came thundering into the room. Ward, despite still wearing off his daze, noted the wrinkled dress blues of an Alliance officer. "BECKETT! WHY ARE THESE STUDENTS NOT IN BED?! AS A PREFECT IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILTY TO HAVE HAD LIGHTS OUT HOURS AGO! YOU ARE ALL TO BE DISCIPLINED NOW!"

* * *

Students scattered as if they were rice thrown into a strong wind, with Camilla failing in her attempt to console a very drunk and very furious Alliance Officer. "KARA, VICTOR, FREESIA! YOU THREE, GET OUT OF THE PIT AND TO BED!" The Colonist jumped first, which led Ward to believe that she was Kara, while the Mousy girl seemed to shrink when the name Freesia was called. Even Victor looked a little uneasy when this woman walked into the room. The three students used their Biotics to flee the pit and escape the wrath of their apparent Instructor.

Ward turned to the remaining student, the Serbian mediator. "I need some answers now, and I've danced this dance enough to guess that you are my wolf cub?" The young man looked taken aback. "Erm, Lieutenant I don't think I'm a wolf, the others always joke that I am-"

"No, I mean have you been approached by Emile?"

"Emile? The Cajun transfer? Why would he have approached me?"

"All right then, well… look, what was your name again?"

The young man gave a very skeptical look in Ward's direction. "Kiril Ouradnik, and I didn't get any messages about Alliance transfers coming aboard. Is there some kind of threat-"

Jason, who had been staring at Kiril in a bit of a daze up until now, had broken his lethargy to interject. "Wait, why would you get messages about Alliance personnel?"

Now Kiril looked a bit flushed. "My last name, well you could say I am well connected." In the back of Ward's head he noted the name, which he didn't recognize, but did ring a bell.

"All right, well there will be a signup tomorrow for N7 exams to be held in a few weeks. We could use some strong Biotics such as you and your… _peers_?"

Kiril shook his head. "I don't have any power, but Bernson up there-"

Jason and Ward's eyes widened, making Kiril stop. "What did I say?"

"Kiril, are you telling me that that woman up there is Lieutenant Commander Carolina Bernson, Bernson _the Beast_?!" Jason breathed out. Ward had wondered what had happened to the once formidable woman he had heard stories about in basic training. Bernson was once classified as the strongest Biotic Vanguard that the Systems Alliance had, and her list of accomplishments fell just short of legends like Steven Hackett, Jackson Woolf and David Anderson.

"I never thought about it, I'm not military, so I wouldn't really know." Despite an outstanding vocabulary, Kiril had a fairly heavy accent. 'What is this kid's deal?'

"All right, we'll have a word with Bernson. How the hell does this pit rise up?" Kiril opened his Omni-Tool and pressed several buttons. Slowly the pit began to ascend towards the main floor. Camilla was nowhere to be seen, but an increasingly sober looking Bernson was staring at them as though they were ghosts.

"Off Sirs, welcome to Gris-Grissom A-c-c-ademy. How- I help you?" a bleary eyed and trembling Bernson asked Ward.

Ward opened his Omni-Tool and transmitted a list to Bernson. "Those students? You make sure they sign up tomorrow, alongside anyone else who shows interest. If you don't sober up Miss Bernson, it will pretty much spell an end to your career here, and anywhere else in Systems Space. Understood?"

Bernson shook her head feverishly, and Ward hoped she remembered everything by tomorrow morning.

"Kiril, it was good to meet you, and hopefully we can see your skills on display in a few weeks, yes?"

Like a mathematician puzzling out a theorem, Kiril began to work out the display bit by bit. "Yes Lieutenant Thompson, I'll be sure to show up. It was a pleasure meeting both of you."

Ward nodded, and Jason attempted to focus as well. Bernson slouched back to her quarters, Kiril shadowing her to make sure she made it back in one piece.

* * *

**Love my Vanguards, and because of such I write more about them. Rest assured however, all students have been given convincing arcs and strengths/flaws. No Mary Sue's or other amateur writer shenanigans going to happen here. **

**Thank you to all for reading so far, and now that the players have been introduced now we can carry on with the story. Please review and send PM's if you have any questions or comments. I promise I don't bite! ;)**


	9. The Revelations & Burning Houston

Grissom Academy, Orbiting the planet of Elysium

Year: 2185

-**/\/**7-

* * *

Ward and Jason stormed into their cabin to find Emile leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed and speaking to a quiet Abigail, who was busy reading through a data pad. At the sound of their entrance, Emile addressed his comrades.

"Ahh my friends, I see you've been busy moving 'round Grissom. Did you like what you saw?"

Ward stopped and leveled a stare at the Cajun that could be politely described as _lethal_.

"Have you _lost _your goddamn mind?! Do you have any idea what you have done by bringing Students in on this? How long do you think it will take before the ANN gets wind of the Batarian invasion now that the information has been leaked to a bunch of _school children_?!" Ward's voice barely rose above a whisper, but the tone could have sent lesser men cowering.

Emile merely raised an eyebrow. "I do not think that you have the full picture on the situation here my friend."

"Oh I beg to differ. You and Woolf are completely out of your depth here. What good do you think it will do by telling students about this invasion? Has Captain Woolf forgotten the meaning of espionage?!"

"Really First Lieutenant, hear me out on this matter. It don't pertain to what you think it does."

Abigail, who up until this point had been waiting quietly for a moment to interject, began to speak. "Ward, this isn't about the Batarians. That's important, but this has to deal with other issues. Let the man speak."

Ward glanced between the two individuals for a long moment, fighting the urge to call Abby wrong. Despite every muscle in his body believing otherwise, Ward knew Abby wasn't wrong: The woman was a human number cruncher who dissected data at prodigious rates. If she put stock in whatever Emile believed, then there was little chance that he could be wrong.

That little chance was what Ward feared.

"Go ahead Warrant Officer, tell me your story and so help me god if you leave anything out this time you will regret it."

Emile smiled. "Excellent, let me heat up some grub and we can get straight to the details of the real situation."

* * *

The four marines sat around a mid-sized circular table in their quarters, eating a very late dinner and allowing Emile to talk about the real reason they were here.

"So, there is a Batarian invasion? That part isn't just a load of crap?" Jason asked between bites of a Cuban sandwich.

Emile nodded, swallowing a bite of his sandwich. "The Batarians are coming, and that fact hasn't changed. The mission parameters aren't any different from what you were briefed onboard the _Seattle_. What _is_ different is what we will do while bringing the students into the fold. Tell me First Lieutenant, were you satisfied with what you saw today onboard the Academy?"

Truth be told, Ward wasn't at all okay with what Emile was saying. He wasn't built for subterfuge and the kind of complex work that Woolf relished. He preferred his missions to be simple and his enemies tangible, even if their difficulty was immense. But despite these feelings towards the subject, he knew what he had seen today crossed every imaginable line on his moral chart.

"The antics going on here at Grissom are appalling. Students are verbally and physically abused by their instructors and I am sure the buck doesn't stop there."

"Quite right: It gets far, _far_ worse. You see, Augustine cloaked herself in both the Colonial protections of Elysium and her family's money and influence. Even then it wasn't enough to make her impervious to the probings of the Alliance. In order to keep Grissom at the superior level of learning and education, her facilities needed top of the line equipment and other technological investments far beyond her own reach. So she turned to the businesses of Earth and the Galactic Community to fill in the blanks: Augustine takes money from 46 companies, both large and small, in return for bulk shipments of supplies and preferential testing of yet unreleased products. The graft is nothing short of incredible, with hundreds of millions of credits flowing into Augustine's accounts."

"The majority of the faculty is in on this scheme as well: The higher up the ladder within each department you are, the more likely you are taking gregarious sums of money from a business that is using your students as the guinea pigs for their products. It's not all sinister mind you, but the ethics violations alone are enough to bring down the entire school should it become public knowledge. The Engineering department however..." Emile did his best to explain the situation without setting off his N7's. It had mixed success.

"I'm sorry, but you need to go through that one again: The students are being used for _slavery_?"

"In principle basically, but Isaacson would find a way to tell you otherwise. The top performing students are basically told to design technological improvements for corporations. Completion of these schematics counts as a final examination pass, which then allows the engineers to be sent to the cushier jobs in the Alliance. The lower students and those that fail the Task are practically shoved into the Alliance Engineering Corps, destined to spend their days building bridges on Therum and Refineries on Gas Giants."

"So these students basically have to complete thesis papers to go onto better parts of the Alliance military? Am I missing something?" Jason asked, still not understanding the concept clearly.

Emile shook his head in disagreement. "The top performers are all but confined to their dormitories, they work long days and are given little to no freedom. On top of all of this, Isaacson doesn't even allow them to collect credit for their designs: He instead auctions the designs off to corporations or uses them as bartering chips to further his own research into synthetic intelligence."

"What about Augustine? She can't be in the dark about this?"

Emile shook his hand back and forth. "Yes and No: She knows something is up in the engineering department, but she doesn't investigate. Ivory Tower limits and all that academic bullshit. Even if she did though I doubt she'd do a thing about it. She and Isaacson have been rivals for a long time, and Isaacson has no qualms about throwing her under the bus if she tries to bring him down. His research would allow him to negate any kind of legal repercussions, while Augustine would be buried under the sheer number of ethical violations, misdemeanors and even felonies that come with her deeds."

Abby spoke up next. "But wouldn't the students be able to get Isaacson removed? They have the evidence to bring him down, right?"

"They could, but at what cost? These kids know that their imprisonment is only temporary, and that if they suck it up they can fulfill their dreams within the Alliance and beyond. Isaacson keeps all of his alumni on short leashes, and his own connections and blackmail keep them quiet. The few that have ever threatened to reveal the truth of the matter are reminded of the backlash that will affect them: Finding work within the Alliance R&D after selling out one of its most respected and charitable scientists would be tantamount to career suicide. That kind of ambition killer weighs heavier on the mind of these students than anything else, especially after having to work so hard for it."

The three N7's remained quiet, contemplating the Gordian knot before them. There seemed to be no way to diplomatically bring down the injustices being committed at Grissom. "These kinds of treatments and actions do not go unpunished chere. _That_ is the reason why we are here. Grissom represents the best kind of Alliance asset: A school where the best are given the tools and training they need to rise up within the Alliance. Under its current management however, the school is incapable of being anything more than endless cycle of academic abuse and corruption."

"We are going to bring down this cycle and slip Grissom back into the hands of the Alliance. Only then can it can be used to fight the Hegemony efficiently."

"So the wolf pups…"

"Students deemed loyal, perceptive, or rebellious enough to help end the cycle. In order to build enough evidence against Augustine we need the assistance of the students. Once we shut her down we can actually begin training the students to combat the Batarian threat. Obviously the students need to be discrete, but with one in every section we can only hold the charade so long."

"Brilliant move there by the way." Ward scoffed.

"If this were a simple mission, then we could afford to keep the students out of the equation. Guess what 1st Lieutenant? It isn't simple. It's complicated and it's messy, and it sure as hell won't go according to plan. If you hadn't noticed chere, the outside is going to hell and a hand basket, and the Alliance needs every asset it can get if it wants to win this war. If that process needs to be sped up through student involvement, who are we to stop them? If nothing else we should be encouraging them."

Ward wasn't having it. "So you think the solution is to inform malleable students that we need them to bring down the sole organization of their building, cost be damned?"

Emile didn't seem to care. "You keep looking at these recruits as though they are children. Fatalistic mistake Lieutenant Thompson: These recruits are going to be among the most seasoned killers the Alliance has ever seen. In war, you either act or you die. These students won't be green forever and soon a day will come when the threat is real, when the shade of death upon their doorstep. Either they will be trained to handle it, or they won't. Which would you prefer?"

When Ward failed to reply Emile sighed and pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one up in the process. As he exhaled he waved the cigarette at Ward. "Do you know what my first job in the N-Division was, Ward Thompson?"

* * *

Ward shook his head no. Emile nodded, satisfied with the answer. "I expected as much. Not exactly public information, or even military information for that matter. When I finally graduated from N-Division training in Rio, they sent me straight for Houston. That fiasco with the Krogan had brought the Alliance to the brink of anarchy: More than a thousand dead and no council restitution? How many Turians died to hold the line against the very aliens they were brought in to replace? How much money did the STG pour into putting down the mad Warlords who rose up from the Genophage? How much aid did the Asari give when the Alliance sent entire battalions to their deaths just to _hold the line?_" Emile took another long drag of his cigarette.

"Not a damn soldier or credit made its way to Tuchanka following the wave of insurrections. The council sat back and let its races observe humanity's progress in solving their problem. And when the smoke had cleared, when the insurgents lay dead or surrendered, how much aid did the Council send? Nothing."

"So it was little surprise that the Anti-Alien movements sprang up as fast as they did. Most were isolationist groups, a few were radicals. They were contingents of the dissatisfied and bitter, widows and orphans determined to see Earth withdraw from the Citadel and become a rogue state, much as the Hegemony was about to become. Most of them were of little note. All except one, The Terra Firma party."

"Following the catastrophe on Tuchanka, Terra Firma's numbers swelled with support: The Krogan had left more than a thousand Alliance personnel dead, and the Council had merely watched. For all intents and purposes there was no one else in the Galaxy. And the Terra Firma played on those fears extensively: Propaganda involving the other races featured Turian Conquests of earth, Salarian inflicted bio-weapons, Asari cultural degradations and pervasions; The Volus wanted to economically own the Alliance, the Hanar were double crossing heretics, the Krogan planned on taking earth over in place of their irradiated hellhole of a world, and the Batarians replaced the bogeyman as the new threat to humanity. Every race was slandered, every institution was vilified, and every alien living on Earth was suspect."

"The Terra Firma grew exponentially, turning whole cities onto their thinking. Longstanding patriots who viewed the North American Unification as weakening and the integration into the Galactic Community formed the most vocal of the party's supporters. Anti-Alliance tensions and old grudges carried from before the First Contact war all came to a head in Houston. One of the largest marches in the country was scheduled at the Systems Alliance Spaceport. 70,000 plus people carried signs demanding the eviction of aliens from the planet, demanding the departure of humanity from the Citadel, demanding the seclusion into Sol."

"I was on the ground there, leading the riot teams that held the perimeter of the spaceport: We were just there to keep the peace, it was all supposed to be routine. No different than the guards at the political rallies and Civil Rights Marches of the early 21st century. I remember the survivors of the fallen from Tuchanka, the families gathered in protest. There was a woman, no older than thirty who was shrieking at us. 'Traitors, traitors!' She couldn't believe that the Alliance would stand behind opposing their own people."

"We all differed on the subject. Some of us wanted to fully integrate into the Citadel; others wanted nothing more than to join the protests. But most of us were just doing our jobs. 'It's the nice thing about being a soldier.' I thought at the time. 'You don't have to think about your mission, you can just point the gun and pull the trigger. You get your orders and you follow them. No grand questions to ask, no cosmic answers to seek. Just follow your orders and you can't be at fault.'" Emile stubbed out his cigarette and lit another. Ward glanced at the clock and saw that it was just shy of 2:00 AM.

"We had tech shields, Omni-Tools, Riot gear with ablative plating. We could have taken on an army with what we had, so none of us thought that kinetic barriers were a high priority. The woman, I don't remember her name, moved through the crowd, passing between the bodies to get to the front. I remember her hands being at her sides, she wasn't armed from what we could tell. She made it to the front of the line and raised her hand. She managed to get out two shots before we reacted."

"I didn't know the kid who got hit, only that he was young and that he was on the cusp of leaving for the crowd. The bullets were obviously armor piercing, because no thermal clip can break through tech armor and then hit the Ablative pieces underneath. The second round broke through those and killed him."

"It was quiet for a moment, and in that moment there was infinity. It was a train wreck we couldn't look away from, let alone agree with. But we all felt it, and we reacted to it as soldiers did: We followed our orders, firing upon the enemy combatants when fired upon first. Of course, the crowd reacted with equal force. Kill or be killed, do or die, fight or flight. We shot them and they rushed the wall. We were no more than 400 men, in lines of three. They were over 70,000 protestors. It was like watching a tidal wave hit a sandcastle. Men were pulled through as the protestors lost all thinking, turned mob in mere seconds. After my commander went down I pulled everyone back behind our barricades."

"400 men went out there to hold a line, and 57 came limping back behind our walls. I didn't know at the time, but Suzette Saracino became a martyr when we shot her down, and the effect was spontaneous. Cities all over the world erupted into riots. Thousands were left dead, with more than triple that number injured. Billions of dollars in property damage was done to every manner of building on every side, rioter, government or neutral. More than three hundred aliens were lynched in the ensuing chaos. When the Alliance finally labeled the Terra Firma criminals and had dozens of party members arrested did the violence finally begin to ebb. I was singled out as the man who saved face by pulling our men back. Feeling beaten wasn't an accomplishment, but looking beat was what prevented anyone from labeling as the instigators of the whole clusterfuck."

"After three weeks of devastation the riots were finally extinguished, and the world became a place far worse for wear. The Alliance advocated the kinds of totalitarianism that would have choked Governments several hundred years prior. Still, it was necessary and it encouraged colonization of the rest of the Sol system, Mars in particular." Emile put out his second cigarette and took a sip from his glass before looking Ward dead in the eyes and continuing.

"Do you know what kept me alive during those times? During my service on Omega and elsewhere? It was my training. It was my training that allowed me to survive what killed men ten times as seasoned as I was at Houston, and later it was my training that allowed me to survive deep cover on Omega. Without it I would have had skills and instincts, which are fine and dandy for some situations. For others… it was better to have learned them before having to use them. But really all of this is more to give you my side of the situation, because regardless of what you think Mister Thompson, It won't mean jack shit in the long run."

"I am the extension of Captain Jackson Lee Woolf, and my word is his during this mission. As for the students, this attempt of yours to 'protect their innocence' is grating at best. You aren't a white knight charging over the mountain to save the princess; _You_ are the man who is going to set them straight along the paths we need them to walk. It doesn't matter if those roads are clean or dirty, they will be walking them for the greater good of their _countries_, their _government_, and their _race_."

The table was silent, with Ward staring holes into Emile's brow. Emile didn't seem to be fazed by this either. Abby and Jason sat silently, allowing the officers to keep talking.

"So Lieutenant, do you still want to challenge me on this, or do I need to call the big bad Woolf to clarify your issues with the chain of command?"

Ward's shoulder slumped slightly as he thought over what Emile had said. Emile had command of this mission, and regardless of rank and moral disagreement he wouldn't _dare_ turn down an order from the Alliance.

"No sir, I do not." The words were void of emotion yet spoken with equal firmness.

"Good, now you three ought t'be getting some rest now. You'll have a long day tomorrow with making sure all of our students sign up."

* * *

CODEX: Tuchankan Resurgence (AKA The Second Krogan Rebellion)

Several years following humanity's entrance onto the galactic stage, the tumultuous Krogan clans of Tuchanka rallied under the joint leadership of clans Weyrloc, Jorgal and Forsan sought to crush the Turian forces stationed with the Krogan DMZ. The Turian Hierarchy, knowing the Krogan to have limited spacecraft and few weapons capable of harming their fleets, sent token forces to blockade the upper atmosphere of the planet. Humanity, eager to prove their worth to the Galactic council and in an attempt to curry favor with the Hierarchy, deployed several ground battalions to Tuchanka to deal with the rogue clans. Unprepared for waging war with the Krogan on their home front, the System Alliance suffered staggering casualties over a period of months. Intense close quarters fighting between Krogan warriors, Blood Pack Vorcha & Varren, and Tuchanka's local wildlife took its toll on the Alliance forces. Eventually Clan Forsan was completely routed, Clan Jorgal surrendered when their leadership changed, and Clan Weyrloc was brutally beaten down, with its leader Guld transported off world for a public trial and execution on the Citadel on the Citadel. Over 2500 soldiers and military personnel were killed during the resurgence.

CODEX: The Terra Firma Riots

Following the disastrous engagements of the First Contact War and the Krogan Resurgence, many humans became disillusioned by the prospect of joining the Galactic stage. Capitalizing on the prejudices and fears of many citizens, the Pro-Humanity Terra Firma party campaigned to have Earth withdraw from the Galactic stage all together. As their numbers swelled, crimes against Aliens and their sympathizers sky-rocketed, alongside anti-alien sentiment and calls for Revolution. During a large scale protest outside the Houston International Spaceport, Alliance Riot squads were forced to deploy lethal measures to contain the crowd. Enraging an already hostile presence, the crowd retaliated and began a mass riot within the city. As the news spread, hundreds of cities around the world became engulfed in fighting between Alliance personnel and Terra Firma revolutionaries. In the end, the Alliance prevailed. Billions of credits in property damage and awe inducing casualties marked a recalling of hundreds of Colonists back to their home planet to bury the dead, repair the damage, and balm wounds.

* * *

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	10. The Registration

Grissom Academy, Orbiting the planet Elysium

Year: 2185

_**-N7-**_

* * *

Ward, Jason and Abby sat on one side of a long banquet table in the largest hall on the station, formally known as Orion Hall. Many students came up to the table, some were inquisitive about what the program had to offer while others were eager to gloat about their prowess at technological combat, Biotics or (in the case of one student) skill at arms. As he walked off Jason scoffed at the idea and leveled a look at Ward that could only be read as "Bitch, Please."

Still, after an hour of waiting for their targets to sign up, the N7's found themselves looking at a roster of less than twenty names, none of them the students they were assigned to recruit two days prior.

"Ward, we haven't seen a single one of our listed students sign up."

"Yeah, not to mention none of the wolf cubs have popped in either. You'd think they would have ambled on in by now, especially given how driven they seemed yesterday?"

"Just be patient, we've got a whopping three hours more to sit here and collect student signups. Besides, this firecracker might help pass the time." Ward nodded dead ahead, towards a female student striding to their table. As she approached she looked at each of the three N7's in turn before picking up a data pad containing the requirements of the N7 Preliminaries.

She began to read loudly to herself "Students will train for a period of four weeks, afterwards they will be administered a two part test designed to test both physical and mental attributes. The first part will be set of three examinations, two written and one technical. The second part of the examination will be a solo match involving a series of opponents that must be eliminated before the student can continue. Falling below an 85% in any one examination will result in a failing grade and disqualify the student from entering the N-Training program… WAIT WHAT?! This isn't even the N-Division test. This whole thing is an entry exam?!" The girl, who had been reading the data pad with dismissive tones, was now taken to utter shock. Ward's line of work was built upon judging and determining targets frequently as a means of threat assessment.

The girl he had judged as being both a piece of work and a high threat to his mental stability.

"This is just the entrance examination, not even the real thing. How are we expected to pass this?!" The girl half-shrieked at the N7's, as though such an action dignified responses from the Marines.

"Miss, what do you think the N-Division is exactly?" Abby asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Special Forces, you just have to be among the best to get in I know that. But this is absurd! How do you expect anyone to pass this test, let alone all of the training that goes on in places like Rio or Titan?"

"The washout rate for N-training is pretty high. Then again, the interest in N-training is even higher. The program isn't about how good you are, it's about determination, diligence, commitment, and above all else _drive_. If you don't have that then it won't matter how talented you are because Miss, I can assure you that the N-Division washes out slackers like you can't believe." Ward wasn't here to sugarcoat the truth for any student, especially not a diva such as this one.

The girl stood mouth agape at the N7's. "Are you calling me a slacker? How dare you!"

Abby rubbed at her temples, but Ward didn't flinch. "Actions alone are the only indicator of an individual's worth. Everything else falls by the wayside when it comes down to it. You think you are the best? Prove it to me, sign up and take the test. There's no penalty in failing, and it's far better to have tried and failed than to have never tried at all."

The girl waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever Herr Platitude, this is a joke-"

"No Kelly, that _hairdo_ is a joke, and hardly funny at that." Came the spiced voice of Mitra, tailed by Maynard, Neil, Flint and a lanky African-American student. The cavalry had officially arrived.

Kelly's eyes narrowed at the sight of the Persian girl and her flock of Sentinels. "The Iranian brownnoser and her lapdogs have arrived to the aid of the Alliance. Why am I even surprised?"

"Because you're a Terra Firma piece of trash who thinks her daddy's money can buy her everything?" Mitra shot back.

Kelly merely rolled her eyes at the group. "Whatever, like I need to deal with you losers." Kelly turned to leave before pausing. "Oh and Neil? Give my regards to the New York nympho for me." Kelly winked and blew him a kiss, to which Neil visibly recoiled from.

As she walked away from the table and out into the hallway, the group of Sentinels approached the table. "Christ, what a twat. I can't believe you were actually sleeping with that." Flint murmured.

"You've got quite a mouth on you kid." Jason stated amusingly. Flint shrugged. "You got a problem with that, tough guy?"

"Easy now Flint, We're not here to pick fights." Mitra spoke soothingly. Flint eyed her warily but nodded nonetheless.

"Now that we have settled such accounts, let us get down to business, so to speak." Maynard ponderously spoke. "And Mr. Thompson, this is Terrence Bloom. He was quietly studying yesterday while we were introducing ourselves and causing unnecessary noise." Maynard gave Flint and Neil a reproachful look. Neither looked repentant in slightest.

Ward nodded in Terrence's direction. "Pleasure to meet you Terrence."

"Terry works just fine." The lanky student replied.

The group reviewed the data pads, asked several questions, and proceeded to sign on for the program.

* * *

The next two hours were a blur of activity. Rosalind, Kae-Song and Theodora popped in after the Sentinels had gone to class, all signing up. Dustin appeared a short while later, signing up and leaving. Adrienne appeared hot on the heels of Dustin. The girl merely read over the program, and seemed to be in a state of turmoil over it. Eventually she signed under Dustin's name and moved on.

Ward recognized the mousy Vanguard they had seen yesterday evening sign up. Putting the name Freesia Arnold down on the list, she nodded at Ward and Jason before leaving. The sickly looking Liam Allen walked into the hall with Harper following close behind him. Liam asked about the severity of the physical program before signing on, with Harper almost obligingly signing on after him.

Two hours into the registration, Carolina Bernson stopped by their table to apologize for her drunkenness that night and had even convinced several of her students to sign up for the program. Ward watched as the hulking colonial girl Kara, the savvy mastermind Camilla and the glowering bodybuilder Victor applied their signatures to the roster, albeit with varying levels of disdain.

Ten minutes later Kiril Ouradnik stopped by the table to ask about the program. With little fuss, he too applied his name to the roster.

The silent Casildo stalked into the room next. Wordlessly he walked up to the roster, signed his name and left Orion Hall. "Well, at least he's not creepy or anything." Jason quipped.

"So far no engineers. What should we do about that?" Abby deferred to Ward.

Jason snorted. "If you'd like we can go break them out of their dorm room. I'm sure Augustine won't mind. Maybe a little bit."

Ward shook his head. While he was starting to get worried about the students he figured they would show up as soon as possible.

Tsuruko Hi appeared next. "Any luck with potential new recruits?" The powerful biotic asked as she signed on the roster.

"We've gotten most of the high performers to sign on, but so far none of the engineering students have shown up."

"Given their… _conditions_ color me unsurprised. They would have needed to have gotten permission from Dr. Isaacson if they wanted to leave the dormitory. What makes it worse is that everything they need is located in their part of the station it isn't surprising that they don't get to leave frequently."

"How do you know so much about the engineering wing Sue?"

"I was there for a year before Augustine relocated me to the Adepts wing. I tested high on most of the mechanical placement tests before coming to Grissom. While I enjoy mechanics, I prefer them as a hobby rather than a full blown profession. When Augustine came around to take me off to the Adept wing Isaacson was left with little choice but to accept. If I had spoken up then, I might have been able to tip Augustine off about Isaacson's activities, but I didn't." Sue sighed and cracked her knuckles. "I plan on doing right by them now, and making up for my mistake to not expose Isaacson then."

"What stopped you in the first place?" Ward asked the fiery spacer.

"Fear. Hesitation. Doubt. Even then I wasn't assured in my actions and choices. Now I have no regrets."

Ward nodded slowly. "I look forward to seeing you on the training mats Sue." Sue raised an eyebrow at him and excused herself.

Jason chuckled. "Nice job Ward, way to make it sound as creepy as possible."

"I know right? Who are you exactly? Humbert Humbert?" Abby added jokingly

"She knew what I meant; you two just have your heads in the gutter. As usual it would seem."

* * *

As the last hour ticked by Jason excused himself to grab some lunch for his comrades. As he left Ward and Abby looked over their roster and double checked the logistics of their training for the next few weeks.

So engrossed with their work were they that Lily Greene was able to approach the table and begun inputting her signature on the data pad. When Abby looked up to see who was signing up she caught Lily red handed:

In front of her was a sheet of paper with the signatures of her classmates and with her Omni-Tool she was scanning the signatures onto the roster.

Lily and Abby locked eyes, with Ward also watching what she was doing with her Omni-Tool. As understanding slowly sank in the N7's were left with what should have been a fairly obvious moral choice. Yet, the context of the situation drove them to act otherwise. Lily finished scanning the signatures, closed her Omni-Tool and quietly thanked Ward and Abby before leaving.

"Do you realize that that move could get us dishonorably discharged right?"

"Abby, you realize that this whole mission could get us _imprisoned for life_? I think that a dishonorable discharge is the _least_ of our problems."

Jason returned to the table bearing several sealed dishes and bottled drinks. As he began to parse everything out he stopped and stared dead ahead of him, eyes on the last figure on their list. Ward and Abby stopped arguing and looked up to witness the judging gaze of Gideon Lewis.

"In the Galaxy, there exist over two hundred separate mercenary companies large enough to pay me double the salary of a commissioned officer of the Alliance Military. With my biotic talent alone I could live like a king on Omega, or find comfortable work elsewhere. There is no reason for me to work for the Alliance, and every reason to work for a group like the Suns or Eclipse."

"The same Suns that harbor ex-Horde members? The same Eclipse that took money from both sides during the Anhur Rebellions? Those don't sound like organizations a son of Mindoir would care to join." Jason replied quicker than Abby had, which was unexpected if nearly identical in consequence.

Gideon's eyes narrowed but he remained where he stood. "The Alliance does have one bonus in store for me though, one factor that these companies could never really provide. One condition that will make it all the more tolerable." Gideon strode towards the table, placed his palms on surface and locked eyes with Ward. "I will join your organization, for the same reason I have remained at this Alliance organization." He picked up the data pad, signed his name off on the roster and tossed it back down on the table.

"That condition, First Lieutenant is _opportunity_, and the reason is _vengeance_."

"Your commitment should be towards the Alliance Gideon, not towards a grudge match with the Batarians. Most likely we will be tasked with taking down other criminal elements besides the Hegemony-

"Save it for someone more gullible. I watch the feeds, I've heard the murmurs. The Batarians will be on our doorstep soon, and when that day comes I want to be there to greet them."

"And if that doesn't happen? If the Hegemony never strikes and you are left nursing your wounded pride in the Alliance? What _then_ will you do, Gideon Lewis?"

"It's not a question of if the Batarians will attack Lieutenant Thompson. It's a question of when. And if it takes a decade for them to strike then so be it."

"Would you rather serve to fulfill your revenge or would you serve to prevent another Mindoir from ever happening again?"

Gideon scoffed. "A naïve viewpoint, there will always be another Mindoir, another Elysia, another Shanxi, another Anhur, another Lusia, another Taetrus, another Torfan. These things don't just stop and it is foolish to think otherwise."

"You didn't answer my question." Abby was a Doberman with a bone.

Gideon didn't deign to answer, walking away from the table and out of Orion Hall.

* * *

With 109 signatures collected, the N7's set about confirming all requests and confirming the absence of students from various classes due to the training of the students.

Ward's Omni-Tool beeped, indicating he had received a message. As he opened the com-link he found himself face to face with a stern faced older man.

"Mr. Thompson, we need to have a discussion about several of my students."

* * *

**The board is set, and now the pieces will begin to move.**


	11. The Disposal

Helena Augustine was not amused.

As the Headmistress of Grissom drank a glass of Thessian Red (A good vintage true, but that did little to help that it was approaching 1400 hours aboard the School) Helena reflected on the failures in her life.

Investing in Binary Helix around the same time of the great recession of 2162; Putting her stamp of approval on the Scorched Earth tactics employed during the Blitz; Putting an iota of faith in the Alliance to properly deal with Colonial Politics and rampant xenophobia on Earth.

Trusting in Jackson Woolf seemed to be a recurring thread that dotted her long tenure as a Strategist for the Alliance. The man was a one man Shadow Government, threading wheels within wheels of espionage and deception to the point where only he knew direction was left and which was right.

Of course, any direction Woolf thought of as being "right" was never truly such.

The man believed that his nigh on thirty years of Special Forces work and Intelligence gathering made him the Alpha and Omega of Spy Mastery.

What he didn't know was what would kill him, and Helena was unfazed by his antics: He fancied himself as such a clever man, a man whose actions would earn him the praise of his successors for the Millenia that deigned to follow in his wake.

His very obvious ploy to steal the top talent of Grissom was an example of how utterly stupid the man was. It was no secret that Alliance High Command had been formulating a multiple class, Special Forces initiative for years now. Simply having the best soldiers wasn't enough for the operations they needed anymore: Tech Specialists, high level Biotics, prodigal Engineers and Primacy level assassins were what the Alliance wanted installed into the N-Division.

While opinion was mixed on the implementation of this manner no one questioned the need for diversified Special Forces units.

While the brass argues onward about the process of how to collect, train, arm and implement these assets, men like Woolf have already begun rounding up the highest levels of talent for their own programs.

Augustine would deal with Woolf and his crony N7's at a later time. The issue sitting before her was enough to bring down Grissom entirely.

Lloyd Isaacson.

Helena took a prolonged sip of her wine before returning to the information that had been sent to her less than an hour beforehand.

It had come in the form of an encrypted message labeled simply as "Veritas." Helena had honestly been expecting some garbage about Alliance conspiracies or Terra Firma nonsense.

What she got was an expose regarding the last five years of Lloyd Isaacson's tenure. Videos of the man forbidding students to leave their dormitories, classes held in repurposed bedrooms, students sitting nineteen-twenty hours a day in isolation as they either worked on research projects or toiled with work.

Clip after clip showed students being reprimanded by Isaacson or the ECRS guards in the Engineering department. The last section of the email was entirely devoted to Isaacson's "Synthetic Intelligence" Research.

She didn't even start the clip. Rubbing at her temples, Helena ran through the scenarios that were about to happen: A student would balk and bring the whole department down, The Alliance would find ties to all of the corporate funding the academy was receiving, The Alliance would find his pet project and piece together what he was trying to do…

Helena opened up her Omni-Tool and vid-called her assistant. "Cyrus, get me Captain Heifetz please."

* * *

Ward, Abby and Jason worked their way to the Engineering Wing, intent on ironing out the issue of allowing the Engineering Students to participate in the N7 training program. While Ward didn't condone negotiation with a psycho such as Isaacson, it would be a necessary evil until Woolf could move in and remove Augustine from power.

"I don't think Isaacson is going to let us keep the Engineering students Ward." Jason stated solemnly.

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh, I don't know maybe going all Rapunzel on his students. He won't like having his top assets out in the open, where they are either not finishing up their schematics or getting him exposed."

"Jason's got a point Ward, Isaacson isn't going to just cede us his students for nothing. He's probably going to have some conditions about what the students can say and how long we have them."

"We need them for hours; he can put their projects on hold until they either pass their training or fail."

"Except we won't let any of them fail, so he's none the wiser?"

"N7 training washes candidates out. Not everyone will pass. We take those that will and move on."

"That is exactly the kind of mindset the Alliance is trying to move away from: Less homogenization, more specialization." Abby had been a staunch proponent of the Mixed Class training logs.

Jason was far more skeptical. "A couple fancy Omni-Programs and some Biotics won't do jack shit if these kids can't shoot straight or run without collapsing. I know that sounds-"

As the three N7's rounded the corner to the Engineering wing they heard furious shouting and were treated with a scene of Dr. Lloyd Isaacson being hauled off by two of the black armored ECRS Guards they had seen around the Institution. A hulking, heavily scarred spook stood a head above the others, barking orders at the other guards.

"I want a thorough scrub of Isaacson's office and the Dormitory. All documentation is to be gathered by hand and turned into me." The bulky guard turned to face the three N7's, eyes immediately narrowing.

"You pups had best get moving, you have a busy day of babysitting tomorrow."

"Who the fuck are you?" Jason blurted out.

"Captain Andrew-

"-Heifetz, although you only got as high as a Sergeant with Alliance Military didn't you?" Abby declared. Heifetz merely scoffed.

"You were dishonorably discharged in 2182 at Anhur for murdering captive Blue Suns and Eclipse commandos. What, was CAT6 not hiring? ECRS seems a little fancy for an ape like you."

"Can it girl, or I'll show you how much authority you _really_ have on this station."

Jason snarled at Heifetz. "Those commandos had Intel that could have helped liberate the system months before we actually did. A grade-A fuckup like yourself has no room to throw around rank-"

"Enough 2nd Lieutenant Pitcairn." Ward only used formal titles when he was angry. It was the easily underestimated, quiet anger that Jason had learned to ignore unless the situation merited it.

"What I would like to know, is what is going on at present. Captain Heifetz?"

"Dr. Augustine is removing Dr. Isaacson from his posting indefinitely."

"On what grounds?"

"Numerous ethics violations and breaches in contractual obligations."

"Excellent. Where is he taken?"

Heifetz grinned. "Off to Horizon for trial and then sentencing."

Ward held his composure, merely nodding. "Thank you Captain Heifetz, I apologize for my subordinates behavior. Hopefully our next meeting will be less crude."

"Keep your pets on a leash boy, or I will put them down myself."

Ward bristled at the comment, but otherwise waved his companions off.

When the three were far enough away from the hallway Ward lowered his façade and punched the nearest wall.

"God damnit! That bitch checks our moves before we make them."

"With Isaacson gone and out of our hands it will be a lot harder to remove Augustine.

"We have jurisdiction here, why don't we just nab him once he touches down on Horizon."

"Assuming Heifetz doesn't arrange for an accident to happen, Isaacson will be taken to a remote colony world and be held for however long Augustine pleases. Jason, you've got to treat Augustine like a local Krogan Warlord: She doesn't really follow the rules set up for her and her word is law. The only difference is that I suppose she does a lot less head butting."

"All right, so Isaacson is out of the picture. Isn't that a good thing?"

"For us in the short run? Yes. In the long run? I honestly don't know Jason. But from here on out we have to be very careful."

The Three N7's moved back to their room to go over the events of the day with Emile.

* * *

"Felicity dear, please do come in."

A waifish, middle aged woman nervously walked into Helena Augustine's office and took her seat in front of Dr. Augustine.

"You wished to talk to me Dr. Augustine?"

"Yes Felicity, are you aware of what transpired today with Dr. Isaacson?"

The waifish woman shook her head no. "I only saw that he was gone, and the Elanus Guards searching his offices."

"Well that is to be expected really, he was dabbling in unethical research and mistreating his students. Terrible loss really, he was such a talented man." 'And an utter fool' Augustine thought to herself.

Felicity nodded her head obediently. "Dr. Isaacson was a brilliant individual, but why am I here Dr. Augustine?"

An idiot this one is, but at least she isn't ambitious. "Dr. Strauss, you are among the most personable and honest instructors in the Engineering department are you not?"

The woman had the gall to blush. "I know my students enjoy working with me and I never lie about my work, although I wouldn't say that I'm so saintly Dr. Augustine."

"Then I will stop beating around the bush: I need a replacement for Department Head for Engineering, and you are the most qualified instructor to fill the role."

Felicity's eyes widened. "Dr. Augustine, I'm hardly qualified to fulfill the role of Administrator! I'm not a genius like Isaacson or as skilled as someone like yourself! I'd be terrible at it."

"Felicity, the last Genius I let into a position of power used his role to further his own career. You, on the other hand, will be using your position to further your students. And now that the Engineering department has been thoroughly debugged and rid of infectious programs, if you were to prove a problem I would be able to remove you. You are a good woman, and I need a good, matronly figure to heal the wounds inflicted by Isaacson's tenure." 'A good woman, but more importantly, an unambitious tractable woman.' Augustine silently thought to herself.

"If you insist Dr. Augustine, then I will do it." 'Excellent.' "But I don't want anything to do with the corporate interests. I know we need to pay for the academy, but I won't accept it."

"I understand, and rest assured that I will hold no expectations for you to undertake any corporate sponsors." 'For now.'

"Thank you Dr. Augustine."

"No, thank you Felicity Strauss, for applying a much needed balm to our Engineering department." Augustine smiled sweetly at Felicity, who bowed and left the Headmistress' office.

* * *

"Is that the last of it?" Nolan asked to Garret, his companion.

The ECRS Guard scanned the last files on Isaacson's personal Terminal for bugs or encoding devices.

"It's clean Nolan, anything else we should get rid of."

"No, nothing- Oh damn it."

"What is it?"

"Just this stupid VI program. It keeps asking me if I would like to check Isaacson's inbox."

Garret reopened Isaacson's terminal, checking extranet messages and sweeping for any backdoor programs that Isaacson might have been squirreling away.

"It's clean. So is it that VI. Look we had better hurry this shit up or Heifetz will have our asses, we'll leave it for the next jag off to reprogram."

Nolan shook his head. They had spent four hours scanning every inch of Isaacson's personal files until they had physically uncovered every bit of information they possibly could. Log books, dossiers on his students, terabytes of 24/7 surveillance on his students, and data-feeds of books, plays, engineering guides, programming, linguistics, history, and a myriad of other topics for three libraries.

Nolan was tired, and for once he felt his companion was right. They would have bigger problems if they didn't hurry up and report their findings.

"All right, let's take the hard copies and go." The two shuffled from the room with their paperwork in tow, ready to report all progress to Heifetz. They turned off the lights to Isaacson's office, and closed the doors.

For fifteen minutes, the room remained silent.

A light emerged from the VI station on Isaacson's desk. It looked around the room and then ran scans of the outside hallway, searching for one figure in particular. After several minutes of searching it stopped and activated its audio files.

"Father? Why have you abandoned me?"

Minutes passed. There was no response from within the room or outside of the room.

After an hour or scanning for his return, a figure approached Isaacson's office. Steward shut down and waited patiently to determine if they were a friend or a foe.

A nervous, mousy looking woman entered the room, closing the door behind her and electronically locking it.

She glanced around the room, eying the work of the ECRS before sitting in Isaacson's high back office chair.

"Seneschal, open tracker program."

A VI automated voice on the woman's Omni-Tool opened up. "Yes, Felicity?"

"Scan for tracers or Warden files in this room." The VI complied and scanned the room.

"Two programs detected: One Private VI: Nondescript; One Public VI: Inquisitor."

"Seneschal, disable Inquisitor program and insert Loop. Authorization: Isaacson. Passcode: Crecy."

"Acknowledged. Program disabled and looped. Room is clear Felicity. May I provide another action?"

"Yes. Seneschal, open secure messaging. Sender: Orpheus. Receiver: Hecate."

"Yes Felicity." Several minutes passed before the woman's Omni-Tool glowed.

"Agent Orpheus, have you completed the objective?"

"Yes, the target is neutralized and I am in position. No one is the wiser."

"Excellent. Proceed with new objectives. Remain under the radar until otherwise notified. Hecate signing off."

"Acknowledged, Orpheus signing off." The woman shut her Omni-Tool and tapped her fingers on the desk.

"Seneschal, open Nondescript VI."

"Yes, Felicity."

Steward activated his VI avatar. "Good Evening Dr. Isaacson. There are no new messages."

Felicity smiled darkly at the VI. "No I suppose there aren't are there?"

* * *

End of Act I; Act II to begin shortly.

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